Colors
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: Series of Johnlock based on basic emotions categorized by colors. Work in progress. Hopefully I can keep it interesting. Each chapter is different: angst, smut, fluff, casefic, you know. The usual.
1. Chapter 1

**Blue**

Grief is very difficult to deal with. When tragedy strikes, not many people know how to deal. Sherlock Holmes is especially one of these people.

Sherlock doesn't know how to deal with many emotions. As a sociopath, he often dismisses emotions as something he doesn't understand. Happiness, anger, sadness; it's very easy to say it's a blur to him.

John never expected he'd see Sherlock show emotions until _that day. _That's what John always refers to it as: _that day. _

It was early in the morning, around three AM. Sherlock's phone rang all through the flat, John heard it all the way from his room upstairs. He rolled onto his back and listened for Sherlock to get out of bed to get his phone, but John knows Sherlock's just coming off a four day case and nothing will wake him.

John sat up to get out of bed, because surely at three AM it was an important call, but as soon as he kicked his legs from out of the blanket, the phone stopped. He sighed and motioned to lay back down, but the phone began again. This time, John got right out of bed and stomped downstairs.

The flat was dark and empty, so the phone rang and vibrated loudly, and the screen lit like a fire. John walked to the coffee table where it was and picked it up.

_Mycroft Calling, _the screen read. John pressed the green button on the screen and held the device to his ear.

"'Lo, Mycroft."

"Ahh, Doctor Watson. I apologize for that late call."

John rolled his eyes. "What is it, Mycroft?"

"Could you let Sherlock know that our mother has had a heart attack?"

John nearly gasped. "Is she ok?"

"It's too soon to tell. Could you let Sherlock know?"

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you, Doctor." Mycroft hung up.

John stared at the phone for a moment, then set it down and went to Sherlock's bedroom. He could hear Sherlock snoring from the door. He opened it and went in.

"Sherlock, hey," John shoved Sherlock's shoulder. "Wake up."

"Mmmmm?"

"That was Mycroft on the phone. He said…" John couldn't really say the words that Mycroft asked him to repeat. He swallowed and finally said, "Your mother had a heart attack."

Sherlock turned over and looked up at John. "What?"

"Your mother had a heart attack. She's at the hospital now."

"Is she going to be ok?"

"I don't know," John took a deep breath. "What should we do?"

"I guess I should," Sherlock moved to get out of bed, "I should go to the hospital."

The cab ride was silent. They were both tired, yes, but Sherlock was thinking. He was wondering what to do now and what would happen if she died.

They finally arrived at the hospital and Sherlock calmly found Mycroft. Mycroft touched his shoulder, which was rare, and looked into his younger brother's face.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock," he said.

John, behind them in the hall, buried his face in his hands. He knew how difficult it was losing a parent, he couldn't imagine what it would have felt like had he not been able to say goodbye.

"She said she loves you, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you," he said.

"I'm going home," Mycroft said. "I'll call you about details later this week."

Mycroft left, but Sherlock stood in the hall silently. John went up to him and touched his arm.

"Are you ok?" John asked.

"Fine," Sherlock quickly said. He strode down the hall and John had to trot to catch up.

The cab ride home was even more quiet. Not even Sherlock's thoughts occupied the white noise.

When they got home, the sun was rising. Sherlock shrugged his coat off and hung it, then walked towards his room.

"Do you want me to—" John began, but he didn't finish his question because Sherlock slammed his door.

The next morning, when John woke, Sherlock was nowhere to be found. John assumed he found something to occupy his time, like a case or something, so John didn't search for him. But at around one in the afternoon, John heard Sherlock's phone ring from his bedroom.

John went down the hall and knocked on Sherlock's door. There was no answer, so John went in anyway. "Sherlock? You in here?"

"Go away," he got in a quick reply.

"Have you been in here all day?"

"Yes."

John went to the bed and pressed a hand to Sherlock's shoulder. "Are you ok?"

"Go away, John."

John sighed and went to the door. "If you need anything—"

"I won't."

The rest of the day was silent, and John went to bed without hearing from Sherlock again.

The next day was the same. John checked on Sherlock a few times and each time Sherlock told him to go away. John tried to get him to eat but he wouldn't. John couldn't get him out of bed for anything.

"When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be here," John said as he left Sherlock's room the next day.

The next day, Sherlock had to meet Mycroft to sort things out. Their mother's will was addressed and the estate was divided. Sherlock left John moping and arrived home later that night still moping. He went straight to his room and didn't say anything to John.

John went to bed not long after Sherlock got home. He knew Sherlock wouldn't need him. He quickly fell asleep.

Not long after, however, there was a knock on John's door. John sat up and rubbed his eyes. He turned the lamp on and checked the clock: 11:45 PM. John sighed. "Come in," he called.

Sherlock entered the room holding the sheet from his bed.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"I'm," Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm ready to talk now."

Sherlock slowly walked through the room to John's bed. Closer, John could see that Sherlock had dark circles under his eyes.

"Have you slept?" John asked.

Sherlock shook his head.

John threw his duvet back and patted the bed. Sherlock lifted a leg to get in, but John stopped him. "Are you wearing pants?"

Sherlock nodded. John nodded at the bed and Sherlock slid in.

John turned over to turn the light off and Sherlock snuggled himself into John's bed. It wasn't the first time they'd slept together, they had done so months ago after John was taken and beat by a few drug dealers. Sherlock had kissed him goodnight and John had let him.

John turned over to look at Sherlock and already Sherlock looked more at ease. He looked like he could finally sleep.

"How do you feel?" John asked.

"How do you think?"

"Awful. Empty. Tired. Alone. Helpless. Am I hitting any?"

Sherlock nodded.

"It'll be ok, Sherlock."

"It won't John. I'll never see her again."

"I know. And I'm so sorry, Sherlock. After my mother went, I felt horrible for about a year. Holidays sucked and that, but then I knew I needed to move on because she needed to make my mother proud, so I went to Afghanistan."

"I'm not going to do that, John."

"I know. You're so much stronger, Sherlock." John rubbed Sherlock's arm.

"I'm not, John. I'm weak like everybody else."

"No, you're not." John scooted closer to Sherlock. "You're not like anyone else. You're so much more, Sherlock. Stronger, smarter, better. You will get through this."

Sherlock closed his eyes. "Thank you, John."

John half smiled. "Go to sleep, ok? Tomorrow we've got to meet Mycroft for funeral details."

Sherlock nodded. John kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

The next morning, John woke up laying on his back with Sherlock on his chest. He took a deep breath and tried to move, but Sherlock pulled him tighter.

"Please don't move," Sherlock said.

"Jesus, Sherlock," John ran fingers through Sherlock's dirty hair. "Have you slept?"

"Yes. That's why I don't want you to move. I want to go back to sleep. I want it to go away."

"It's not going to go away, Sherlock."

Sherlock shook. John held him tighter. "Ok, ok. I won't move. Go to sleep."

They slept through their appointment with Mycroft. When Sherlock finally woke up around three PM, John got him to shower and eat something. It wasn't much, but John knew Sherlock needed something in him.

They went to the funeral two days later. John was there by Sherlock's side the whole time, Sherlock never let him leave. Sherlock slept with him each night and woke up after him each morning. John thought it was nice even though he shouldn't have.

At the funeral, Sherlock looked sad. That's the only way John could describe him, sad. John had never seen Sherlock frown so deeply before. Sherlock wasn't thinking and wasn't doing anything, hardly even talking, so John knew he was sad.

Sherlock didn't cry, though. Sherlock would never cry. John may have thought he was going to, but he knew he wouldn't. Sherlock did hug Mycroft, though. John knew that was the most emotion he was going to let out.

In the car on the way home, Sherlock turned to John.

"Thank you, John," he said.

"What for?"

"For all of this. For this past week."

"You're welcome, Sherlock. Anything."

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked out the window. He sighed again and looked at John, who looked at Sherlock, who reached across the seat to John and kissed him.

John didn't break away from Sherlock with shock. They'd kissed before, but this time it was different. When Sherlock finally let John go, he stared into John's face and John stared at him.

"Sherlock, don't," John finally said. "You're sad and vulnerable. And I've been the one to help you. That's why you're kissing me."

"No, John. I've been thinking a lot. About life and death, you and I. I'd be…" Sherlock sighed as if shocked by his own words, "I'd be devastated if something happened to you."

"I know, and I'd be devastated if something happened to you again, but I'm not going around kissing you."

"Why don't you?"

"What?"

"Why don't you kiss me?" Sherlock sat back. "Don't you…don't you feel for me…"

"Yes, I do, Sherlock." John scooted closer to Sherlock. "I'd do anything for you. You're my closest friend and…I could be with you forever, Sherlock. But when your grief fades, that's all it'd be. Grief feelings."

"I don't think so, John. I've been thinking very hard about this, and I'm ready to take our relationship to the next level. Slowly, yes. But I've been thinking about it. And I'm ready."

"Sherlock. I can't…" John took a deep breath. Sherlock looked out his window and pouted. "Hey, look at me. It's not a no, ok? Just not yet, ok? When you're done grieving, when you can think clearly, maybe after a big case, I'll ask you and you can decide then. Ok?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Just say no, John. I can take rejection."

John reached over to Sherlock and kissed him lightly. "It's not a rejection. But we need to wait."

Sherlock nodded. "Ok, John. My thoughts won't change, but I understand."

John released Sherlock and sat against his door. "You're amazing, Sherlock. You're handling all of this so well."

Sherlock looked out his window and began to move on.

_***This is the first in a series of about sixteen fics based on this: **_ 25 dot media dot tumblr dot com /tumblr _ m5mry 1KBUF1rnl2v3o1 _ 500 dot png _**remove spaces and replace dot to . I'll do each color and each word around the edge. You'll see what'll happen. Stay tuned! **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Blue-Green**

Sherlock is honest when he says every case is perfect. No matter how big, how small, they are all perfect. It's the work that matters. It's keeping his brain sharp and keeping himself occupied.

John agrees when an interesting case comes along after a month of quiet cases. Sherlock jumps for joy when Lestrade calls and tells him it's urgent.

Sherlock and John exchange excited glances in the way to the crime scene, and John loves it. Nothing much has happened between them since after Sherlock's mother's funeral, and John's hoping this will make Sherlock's head sharp and he can think straight.

They arrive at the scene on the edge of London. They're in an old, abandoned warehouse, and it's cold, but they hardly feel it. Sherlock rushes to Lestrade and asks for the details.

"Well, we've got a foot," Lestrade says.

"That's all?" John asks.

Lestrade nods. "That's all. It was cut straight and perfect, as if…well, as if lasered off."

"What? Like a Light Saber?" John asks.

Sherlock looks at him. "Ahh, John. Finally the useless things you put in my head pay off. I understood that reference."

John grins. "I told you."

Sherlock smiles at him.

"Now isn't the time, boys," Lestrade says, gaining their attention. "My team is around here looking for the rest of the body. But look," Lestrade points to the foot, the one Sherlock's already examining.

"Is that…" Sherlock begins. He sniffs the foot. John grimaces. "Chocolate?"

"I believe so," Lestrade says. "Looks like chocolate sauce they use in movies as fake blood."

"Like in the Thriller video?" John asks.

Sherlock ignores them. "Yes, chocolate. But why? From where?" He stands and looks around the building. "What was this warehouse for?"

"It was an old bakery."

"Of course," Sherlock says. He takes his phone out and Googles their current address. It shows the building was once an old bakery owned by a man named Kevin Dorothy. "Look for Kevin Dorothy, Lestrade."

Lestrade sends a man to call the Yard for information.

"How long has this foot been here, John?"

John examines it. "A few hours."

Suddenly, they hear shouting from somewhere else in the warehouse. From what they can hear, a hand was found. They wait for Lestrade's man to bring the hand to them, and once he does, Sherlock examines it.

"Chocolate, yes. Cut the exact same. It belongs to the same person."

"How do you know?" John asks.

"This foot has athletes foot. Under the fingernails, there's bits of skin fragments. This person was scratching their foot. Assuming, also, by the size of this hand and foot, this was a man. The fingerprints look rough, there are hardly fingerprints. This man must have worked with chemicals that made the fingerprints disappear. It happens sometimes. Let's see," Sherlock goes on, "Perhaps a scientist." Sherlock takes his phone out and types away. He searches for missing persons in the area and finds a man named Doctor Henry Monroe, a scientist reported missing from the members of his lab. "Here, this must be him. Of course we'll have to run tests. Now, let's see. Who would want him dead?"

Sherlock paces and thinks, and Lestrade and John sit back and watch. Finally, Sherlock jumps and shouts with sudden realization. "Of course!" he shouts.

"What, Sherlock?" Lestrade asks.

"This factory was owned by Kevin Dorothy. I just remembered reading that his factory was shut down because they found mercury in the chocolates. Henry Monroe was one of the many scientists in question as being his partner. Monroe must have let Dorothy take the blame. Therefore, Dorothy killed him."

"Brilliant," John mutters. "That was amazing."

"Not yet," Sherlock turns to Lestrade. "Question Dorothy. He's the killer."

"Great, Sherlock. Thank you!"

"Call me with something a bit more difficult next time," Sherlock says, walking out of the warehouse.

John follows close behind and smiles. "That was great, Sherlock. Really great. Might have been your quickest yet."

"Not my quickest, but it did give me something to think about. Very stimulating."

"Well done, though. Really."

The next morning, John wakes up happy and decides to make Sherlock breakfast. Sherlock wakes to the smell of bacon and eggs. He walks into the kitchen with his dressing gown wrapped lightly around him, his chest bare underneath.

"What's this?" Sherlock asks.

"Oh good, you're up!"

Sherlock half smiles and sits in a chair by the table. "Why are you making such a large breakfast? Usually you have toast and apricot jam on Sundays."

"Today is a special day."

Sherlock looks scared for a minute. "Did I forget your birthday again?"

John laughs. "No, no! Well, yes you did. But that was months ago." John walks over and serves Sherlock half the pan of scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, and a slice of toast. "Today is just…special."

Sherlock eyes John as John sits next to him. "What makes it so special?" he asks, cutting into his eggs.

"I just…" John bites his egg, then stares at Sherlock. He gives Sherlock a lopsided grin. "You're brilliant, you know that?"

Sherlock looks shocked. He blinks at his eggs, then bites them. Once he's finished chewing, he nods. "I've been told once or twice."

"And the case last night. Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"Was it?"

"Yes! You just…you knew! You always just know! You're so brilliant!"

"Thank you, John. But I hardly think—"

"You are, Sherlock," John says. "You're amazing and brilliant and I…" John takes a deep breath. "I'm ready. So, Sherlock, would you like to go on a date tonight?"

Sherlock looks confused. "A date?"

"Yes. You know? Two people who like each other go out and have a good time?"

"We do that all the time, John."

"Yes, but…" John sighs. "A date is just different than what we normally do, ok? A date is more special. What do you say?"

Sherlock thinks. "I've never been on a date before."

John smiles. "I'll make it worth your while."

After breakfast, Sherlock goes to the lab. Usually Molly isn't there on Sundays, but she wanted him to examine the other body parts found from the chocolate light sabers case (that's what John keeps calling it). Sherlock goes to the lab and sets to work quickly.

"So," Molly begins. "How've you been, Sherlock?"

"Fine."

"Good. That's good."

Sherlock stays silent and works. As he's staring at his microscope, Molly starts again.

"Got any plans for the evening?" she asks.

"Actually yes," Sherlock proudly looks up from his microscope. "I've got a date."

Molly looks shocked, maybe a little hurt. "A date? With who?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "John," he says, as if she should know.

"Oh!" Molly says. "What are you two going to do?"

"I don't know. Dinner, I suppose. But John says it's more special than any regular time we have dinner."

"Yes, dates are special. Especially with someone you love."

Sherlock sits up straight and quickly looks at Molly. "I don't love John."

"But…you…and he…"

"We don't love each other. We like each other, bur love is too much."

"What do you expect out of this date then, Sherlock? What will it mean tomorrow after you've gone on the date?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, will you be boyfriends? Will you sleep together? Will you decide not to be? Will you—"

"Why do I have to decide that now?"

Molly shrugs. "It's just something you do in wondering. Do you remain dating with the possibility of falling in love, or do you remain friends and nothing more?"

"John will always be my friend."

Molly picks up her files and heads for the door. "That doesn't mean you can't or have to love him, but dating a friend might get sticky."

Sherlock pouts into the microscope. _Why do we have to be boyfriends? Why can't I just date John because I enjoy his company? _Then, Sherlock's thoughts really begin to wander. _I've never been on a date. What if I date wrong and he doesn't like me? What if I do the wrong thing? What if he tries to kiss me and I don't want him to? What if I try to kiss him and he doesn't want me to? What if he wants sex tonight? I don't want that. Not now, at least. _Sherlock begins to panic, so he takes a deep breath. He shoves those thoughts out of his mind and continues working.

He gets home that evening and John's in the shower. John is humming so Sherlock knows he's in a good mood. Sherlock doesn't want to ruin it, but he can't stop thinking about the things he thought of in the lab.

When John gets out, Sherlock's already dressed for their date and in the living room. John smiles at him as he heads upstairs, and when John returns he's ready.

"Ready?" John asks, grabbing his coat.

"As ready as I can be," Sherlock replies.

They go to a restaurant and get a table quickly. They sit and John doesn't stop grinning at Sherlock.

"Why do you keep smiling like that?" Sherlock asks.

"I'm happy. I'm happy to be here with you."

"We go to dinner all the time."

"Yes, but this time it's different."

They order food and make normal conversation. Sherlock loses his nerves, but the moment there's a lull, he begins to panic again. _I'm no good at this. I can't do this. He's going to change his mind. He won't want me after tonight. I shouldn't have said yes. I shouldn't have tried a month ago. I was vulnerable. _

"Sherlock? What's the matter?" John asks.

Sherlock looks at him, swallows, stands, and leaves.

"Sherlock! Wait!" John follows him out of the restaurant and down the street. "Wait!"

"I can't do this, John. I shouldn't have come tonight."

"What are you talking about? What is wrong?"

Sherlock turns back at John. "I'm no good at this. I'll be rubbish to date. Find someone else, someone better. I can't give you what you want. I don't want to be your boyfriend and I don't want to have sex. I just…can't, John." Sherlock turns and walks down the street.

"There is nobody better, Sherlock. Stop!" John grabs his arm and makes Sherlock turn around.

"You need to stop thinking so much. You don't have to be my boyfriend yet, Sherlock. I just want our dinners to mean something. And sex? We won't until you're ready. If you're never ready, so be it! I'm not going to force you."

"It's a basic human need, John. One day you'll grow tired of me and you'll need to find someone else."

"I'll never grow tired of you, Sherlock. You're all I want, I promise. Now, can we please resume our date?"

"No, John," Sherlock says. "I can't. I'm no good for you. You don't want me, you're just...I don't know. After the case last night, you must be in amazement still. You don't—"

Suddenly, John's lips are on his. John's hands are on either of his cheeks and John is kissing him. Sherlock stands stunned for a moment, eyes open and hands at the side, but John swipes his tongue along Sherlock's bottom lip, so Sherlock closes his eyes and wraps his arms around John. He opens is mouth and meets John's tongue with his own.

They kiss for a minute, maybe three or four, until John breaks away panting.

"How's that for not wanting you?" John asks. "It's not just physically either, Sherlock. Of course you're beautiful and I _want _you, but I want to be near you and I want to know you better. I want to be the one who knows you most."

"You already know me the most, John."

"Then how will dating be different from the current arrangement?"

Sherlock sighs and looks down. "You're right."

"I know I am. I can be every once in a while," John pulls away from Sherlock and holds his hand out. "What do you say? Finish the date?"

Sherlock takes his hand and follows him down the street. They return to the restaurant and eat dinner while chatting and making great conversation.

When they get home, they kiss twice in the living room before retiring to their own beds with large smiles on their faces.

_***Here's part two of Colors. Read chapter one and review!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_***Warning for traumatic events and language. I'm going to up the rating in one or two chapters, but for now I won't. A warning will be added for each chapter as needed.**_

**Green**

Two weeks and three dates after the first, Sherlock gets called with a case from Mycroft. It really doesn't seem difficult, not much leg work, so he agrees. They go to Mycroft's office for the case file.

They arrive and Mycroft informs them that in the time they traveled, there's been an interesting turn of events.

See, the case was that one of Mycroft's secret service men was kidnapped. All Sherlock had to do was find him. Finding motives and things like that wouldn't be necessary. All he had to do was find him.

Mycroft gathered as much information as he could, but right before Sherlock arrived, Mycroft got a call, assumingly from one of the captors, who said the man has been moved and they want their ransom in six hours or else he's dead.

"Here's the call we received," Mycroft plays the tape back for Sherlock.

A man's voice comes the intercom and repeats everything Mycroft told Sherlock; the man is being moved and will be dead soon if the money isn't sent.

Sherlock plays it back three times and finally sits back and takes a deep breath.

"What do you hear?" Mycoft asks.

"Water." Sherlock says.

"Yes, I did too," Mycroft says.

"Water?" John asks.

"At minute one, a few seconds before one, water running. Could be a tide, but nobody expecting money and obviously doesn't want to kill the man wouldn't go that far away. Could be a waterfall, but where would we hear a waterfall and why isn't it continuous? Let's see. Running water…"

"What else do you hear?" Mycroft asks.

Sherlock thinks. John tries to think, but perhaps his ears aren't as sharp as the Holmes men because he heard nothing about water. However, John does come to his own conclusions from Sherlock and Mycroft's ears.

"What about a landfill?" John asks.

Sherlock and Mycroft look up at him at the same time. "A landfill?"

"Yeah, you know? Where the rubbish goes. Sometimes it runs into the river," John pauses and thinks that over. "No, that's not right. Sewage. Sewage systems run into the river."

Sherlock nearly hops out of his chair. "That's it, John! A sewage system. Play the tape again," he instructs

Mycroft plays it back and Sherlock listens very closely.

"There!" he says right as the tape is about to end. "An echo. He goes back underground, and the call cuts so quickly because he loses service. So he's underground."

"Brilliant," John says.

"You thought of it, John," Sherlock says with a grin.

"Please save the ridiculous flirting for later," Mycroft says. "I can't lose another man this month."

Sherlock opens the case file and pulls out a letter that was sent to them. "There are traces of dirt here. They always leave dirt bits, so easy to trace. I'll take this to the lab and run them. Should have it in no time."

Sherlock and John dash out of the office and towards Bart's.

Two hours later, the samples are done and Sherlock calls Mycroft. I've got the place, have you got a team?"

They take a cab to the edge of the river, where the sewage runs in. They find an opening to slip through to underground and head down without Mycroft's team. They've got three hours left to find the man, but Sherlock knows it won't take that long.

"The dirt was more molded, so obviously we need to search in the more damp areas." Sherlock motions to John to move in one direction.

After a few minutes, they can hear Mycroft's team enter. They don't double back to them, however, because Sherlock knows he doesn't need to wait for them. He knows where they're going.

They wander for about twenty minutes, and finally John says, "I'll go this way," and walks the opposite direction of Sherlock.

John wanders far away from Sherlock. For ten minutes he walks, and suddenly he hears splashing and whispers. John turns his light out and stands still against a wall, and soon he sees a flashlight around the corner from where he is. He gets his gun ready and quietly waits; he barely breaths. He hears more whispering, and makes out a few words. "Who…down here…" John realizes the captor, or captors, knows he's down there.

Without noticing, the light John was once holding falls from his coat pocket. It splashes in the puddle beneath him and turns on. He quickly scrambles to turn it off, cursing in his head at himself. His gun is still raised.

When the light falls, the captor quickly turns his light out and trots the direction away from John. John lets out a breath of relief, but without noticing or hearing anything, he feels a gun being pressed against the back of his head.

"Drop your weapon," a deep voice says. "On your knees."

John's heart stops. He feels cold all over, and a sudden memory from Afghanistan invades his mind. _Please God, let me live, _he quickly thinks before holding his hands up in surrender and sinking to his knees. He sets his gun down and breaths.

"Who is with you? I know there are more."

John doesn't reply. He can't reply.

"I asked who is with you!" the man shouts, pushing the gun deeper into John's head.

"My team," John squeaks out.

"Are you the police?"

"No," John replies.

The man chuckles and practically pets John's head with his gun. "I don't believe you. Where are they?"

"I-I don't know," John says.

"Don't fucking lie to me!"

John screws his eyes shut and sinks lower into the ground. The man's gun follows his head down. "I don't know where they are. Somewhere around here."

The man takes a deep breath and pushes his gun against John's head. "Up," he demands. John stands. "Move," he demands. John steps forward. The man guides John with his gun.

After walking through the tunnel a few minutes, John lets out a rugged sigh.

"Scared?" the man asks.

John gulps and shakes his head.

The man chuckles. "Stupid bravery," he says.

John bites his lip.

"What's your name?" the man asks.

"John."

"Hello, John. Nice to meet you. I am Will. We will be having a very nice visit, you and I."

John breaths and walks, but doesn't reply. Finally they come to a stop and Will throws John on the ground. "Don't bloody move," he demands. John sits and doesn't move. "Meet Tom," he says, pointing at a man in the fetal position next to John. John didn't even notice it was a person. Tom didn't move, John knew he was knocked out.

"What did you do to him?" John asks, the first thing he's said.

"Sedative. Pretty heavy, actually. Won't kill him. I'm a doctor, I know. What are you, John?"

John clears his throat and squirms. "I'm a doctor."

"Yeah? Good! We have something in common!"

John sits. Will leaves John's side, John assumes he's checking for other entries. "Nobody's following. Don't they care you're gone?"

John nods even though it's too dark for Will to see him. Will makes his way back to John and tosses something at John. "Tie your hands," he says.

John picks up the zipties and ties his hands.

Meanwhile, before John was captured, Sherlock wanders far away from John but he doesn't find anything. There aren't even snags of clothing on walls, nothing to go on. Finally he gives up and returns to where John left him. There, he finds two of Mycroft's men.

"Where is John?" Sherlock demands.

They both shrug.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. _Imbeciles_, he thinks. "Ring the others to find out where he is."

One of the men takes his radio and calls to the whole unit. "Anyone have Doctor Watson?"

Replies come quickly, and nobody has him. Sherlock doesn't feel afraid yet, he's confident John is around here somewhere. He calls John.

John feels his phone vibrate with a call but he can't answer it. He shifts so he's sitting on his phone, so hopefully something hard would answer it, but as soon as it hits the ground, the vibrating can be heard through the tunnel. Will quickly turns to look at John.

"What've you got there? Your phone ringing?"

John doesn't say anything. Will walks over and pushes John onto his other side, then grabs his phone from John's pocket.

"Sherlock, eh? That your partner?"

John doesn't say anything.

"Ye-llow?" Will answers.

John can't hear Sherlock, but he hears Will's replies.

"He's fine!...Where is my money?...Doctor John here will be in grave danger if I don't get my money. … Find us, then. …" Will hangs up.

Will looks back at John. He points his gun directly in John's face. John shudders but doesn't move. "Come on," Will demands, waving his gun. "Get up."

John stands and Will steps behind him. He pushes John with his gun and John walks.

Sherlock stares at his phone for a second as if it'll give him the answers as to where John is.

"Ok, Holmes?" one man asks.

"He has John. We need to find them." Sherlock takes off the direction John went at first and the two men follow.

Sherlock and the two others walk in and out of tunnels for nearly twenty minutes with no luck. Suddenly, as if the thought had always been there but he just remembered it, Sherlock remembers that his and John's phones are synced to one another in GPS for his exact reason. Sherlock quickly takes his out and opens the APP up. He has no service, so Sherlock steps all over and tries to find a bit of service. Finally he finds a bit of service and shouts in excitement. He pressed the button to find John and the coordinates are given to him after a minute of searching.

"This way!" Sherlock shouts. He leads the two men and they run down a tunnel.

Will leads John to a tunnel that leads to a sewage waterfall. John winces at the light.

"Stop," Will demands.

John stops. He stands extremely still and Will walks around him. For the first time, John sees his face. He looks old and tired and worn and like he's seen better days. John wonders what Will needs the money for, but he realizes Will's probably a drug dealer or something.

"What are you doing here, Doctor?" Will asks.

John doesn't answer.

"You can talk."

"We came to fetch Tom."

"Why? Just once person? Why is one person so important?"

"Every life is."

Will laughs and raises his gun at John's face. "Every one? Is my life? Yours?"

John nods.

"Why would you value just one life? Doctors know you can't save everyone. Let's see…" Will thinks for a minute. "Are you a soldier, John?"

John nods.

"Been to war, then?"

John nods.

Will smiles. "Been shot?"

John nods.

"This must be difficult, then." Will points his gun directly at John's face, right between his eyes.

John swallows but doesn't move.

Will laughs. "Where were you shot, then?" He moves the gun south at John's chest.

John doesn't move, so Will continues to move it like a metal detector. Finally he reaches John's left shoulder and John lightly shudders. "Here we are," Will says. He presses the gun into John's shoulder, right next to John's scar. Will laughs. "We have a winner!"

They stand like that for a few minutes and John continues deep breaths. Will laughs every few minutes.

"That man on the phone," Will asks. "Will he miss you if you died right now?"

John nods.

"Is he your friend?

John nods.

"If he's your friend and he'd miss you if I killed you, then where is he?"

Right at that moment, Sherlock and the other two round the corner and stop dead as soon at they see John and Will. They're standing at the edge of the fall, at any second Will could push John down to his death. Sherlock stares with wide eyes.

Will quickly grabs a second gun from his pants and points it at Sherlock. Sherlock raises his hands in surrender. "Drop your weapons!" Will shouts.

Sherlock and the other two put their guns down.

"This him?" Will asks John.

John nods.

"Well, he found you."

"Let John go," Sherlock demands.

"Or what?" Will asks.

"Just let him go," Sherlock says.

Will pushes the gun deeper into John's shoulder. John closes his eyes and shudders.

"Let John go," Sherlock demands again.

"This is quite fun," Will says. "I could keep at this all day. But we've got," Will checks his watch, "A little under two hours. Where's my money?"

"I don't know anything about your money!" Sherlock says. "Let him go!"

Will pushes John suddenly and John stumbles backwards a step. John looks down the fall and estimates what will happen if Will pushes him. He gains his stance again.

"I want my money."

"I don't have it," Sherlock says.

Suddenly there's a crack heard everywhere. John falls to his knees and covers his head, Sherlock and the other two hunch over and cover their heads as well. Sherlock finally looks up and sees Will laying on the ground in a pool of blood, a bullet right between his eyes.

The two men with Sherlock stand and look around, finding another man from their team who shot Will. Sherlock stands and rushes to John, wrapping his arm around John and covering John with his whole body.

"You're ok, John," Sherlock says.

John shakes and pushes Sherlock off him. "Don't touch me!" John shouts.

Sherlock falls off him and sits on his heels. He watches John double over himself and throw up. When he's finished, John looks at Sherlock and Sherlock sees John's eyes have changed. His pupils are dilated, his eyes look dark. Sherlock can tell he's scared, possibly in shock.

The paramedics find them and take John and Sherlock through the tunnels. Someone gives John one of those blankets and he clutches to it while walking through the dimly lit tunnels. Sherlock wants to reach out and hold his hand, but he takes what John demands and doesn't touch him.

The medics look them over and John comes off his shock. Not all the way, but he does enough that he can go home. He and Sherlock climb into the back of a police car and head home.

Once home, John goes straight to bed.

"Do you want me to join you?" Sherlock asks.

"No." John snaps. He hops up the stairs and leaves Sherlock confused in the living room.

Around midnight, Sherlock hears John scream. Sherlock wakes from his light nap on the couch and bolts upstairs. He throws John's door open and rushes to the bed.

"John? John!" Sherlock shouts through John's screams.

"Sherlock, oh my God!" John shouts, clutching to Sherlock.

Sherlock grabs John's biceps and squeezes. "You're ok, John. I'm here. Everything's alright."

Suddenly John's eyes grow wide and he pulls away from Sherlock. "This is all your fault!" John shouts as he stands from the bed.

Sherlock remains sitting but holds his arms out to John. "What's my fault, John? Tell me."

"The case, the guns, the…blood…" John runs fingers through his hair. Of course he's shot and killed people since Afghanistan, and he himself has been in danger, but something about today's case was all too real to John. He can't think straight. He was scared and he's not getting over it.

"I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry. I won't bring you to a case again, I swear! I'm so sorry, John."

John burst into tears and holds his shoulder. He rubs his scar and sobs at the floor. Sherlock stands and wraps his arms around John, and John rests his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Come on, let's get back in bed," Sherlock says, pulling John backwards towards his bed.

John lets Sherlock pull him and they fall onto the bed. Sherlock lays on his back and John lays over him, still burying his head in Sherlock's shoulder and resting there. Sherlock pats his back and rubs his head, then kisses John's head every few minutes.

"You're ok, John. I've got you," he says.

Soon John falls asleep.

The next day, Sherlock wakes and John's gone. He doesn't know where John is, and John doesn't return until later. Sherlock's in the kitchen attempting to make dinner.

As John enters the kitchen, Sherlock turns to face him. He gives John a faint smile. "Hello, John."

"Sherlock," John greets.

"Have an interesting day?" Sherlock asks.

"Don't act like you care," John snaps.

Sherlock's eyes grow wide. "John, I do care. About you, I do. How was your day?"

"Stop pretending, you wanker," John harshly says. "Don't act like you care for me."

"I do, John. I promise." Sherlock steps towards John, but John backs away. "John it's ok. I'm sorry about yesterday," Sherlock pleads.

"Yesterday…" John wanders the living room and shakes his head. "Yesterday. I can't, Sherlock."

"I won't bring you to cases again, John. I promise. Just calm down and let's talk about it."

"You want to talk about it? Fine, Sherlock! I was fucking shot in Afghanistan and nearly shot yesterday. He read me, Sherlock. Almost as quickly as you did and it scared me. Someone that…that dumb can read me and know me and use it against me!"

"I would never, John. I would never use it against you."

John shakes his head. "He had me, Sherlock. One pull of a trigger and someone like that could have had me."

"I'll protect you, John. I promise I will protect you."

Sherlock steps towards John, but John pulls away. "No, Sherlock. You'll have no chance to ever again."

John stomps upstairs and into his bedroom.

Sherlock stands stunned in the living room for a minute, then in a sudden act of rage, he stomps to the kitchen and pushes the rack of test tubes and beakers and his microscope to the ground. He wants to shout but he doesn't want to alarm John, to trigger him again. Instead, he presses his back to the cabinets, slides to his bottom on the floor, and cries.

The next day, Sherlock goes to Bart's to fix the experiments he broke the night before. He silently works while Molly wanders in and out of the lab every few minutes.

"Are you ok?" Molly asks after the tenth time she wanders in.

"Fine," Sherlock answers.

"How's John?"

Sherlock quickly looks at her. "Why do you ask?"

"Because…you're, you know?, dating now. How's that going?"

Sherlock looks back at his microscope. "We're not any more."

Molly gasps. "What happened?"

"I fucked up," Sherlock answers.

"What did you do?"

Even though he doesn't want to, Sherlock knows talking about it will make it feel better. He explains everything from the night before and Molly listens.

"And now he doesn't want anything to do with me," Sherlock ends the story.

Molly blinks a few times to retain the information. "Ok," she presses a hand to Sherlock's shoulder. "He'll come around, Sherlock."

Sherlock shakes his head. "He won't. I ruined it."

"He can't remain in…shock forever. He'll come out of it and all will resume as usual."

Sherlock shakes his head again. "I don't think so."

"Sherlock, you don't know that—"

Sherlock stands and throws his stool back. "I do know, Molly! I've broken John! He will never be ok again! He's going to leave me! He's going to be angry with me forever! I've lost him, Molly, and there's nothing anybody can say to prove otherwise! I broke him and he doesn't want me anymore!" Sherlock pushes the door to the lab open and walks through it.

Sherlock goes home to find John fast asleep on the couch. Sherlock walks over to him and runs fingers through John's hair. John quickly wakes and sits up. He stares at Sherlock with wide eyes. Sherlock steps back.

"Do not touch me," John says. He stands and stomps towards his room.

Sherlock slumps on the couch and breaths. _I broke John, _Sherlock thinks, _And he will never be ok again._

_***Ouch. Right in the feels. Green's words are Terror, Fear, and Apprehension. More up tomorrow. Please review! **_


	4. Chapter 4

**Yellow-Green**

It's been days since the _incident. _John still isn't coming around to Sherlock, and Sherlock kicks himself every second. John is still in shock, but Sherlock is sad and depressed because John doesn't want anything to do with him.

Sherlock's trying very hard, though. He makes John tea, which he never even did for himself before. He makes John's bed every morning because John doesn't care to fix it. He washes John's clothes. He generally stays out of John's way.

Each time Sherlock hands John a cup of tea, John says thank you, but he barely even looks at Sherlock. Each time, Sherlock nods and goes back to his room.

On the fifth day after the incident, Sherlock makes John toast for breakfast while John's in the restroom brushing his teeth. He finishes and turns around to see John standing right behind him.

"What are you doing?" John asks.

Sherlock holds the plate of bread up. "I made you toast."

John stares at Sherlock, then the toast, then half smiles. "Thank you."

It's the first bit of emotion Sherlock's seen from John since then. Good emotion, that is.

"You're welcome," Sherlock says.

John takes the plate from Sherlock and goes to the living room. Sherlock goes back to his room to work.

On the eighth day after the incident, Sherlock changes John's sheets right before John goes to bed. He's still in John's room when John comes in after brushing his teeth.

"Thanks," John says.

"Mmm," Sherlock replies.

Sherlock's standing on the side of the bed near John's nightstand. John walks around that side and places his phone and watch on the stand. Sherlock feels nervous, though he shouldn't.

He smoothes the duvet down and moves to leave, but as soon as he steps away, he feels John's hand on his hip. John holds him still a moment and Sherlock doesn't move. He doesn't even want to. It's the first bit of contact John's given him since Sherlock slept with him a few days ago, and Sherlock really wants John to show him he's ok.

They stand still for a minute, then John slides his arm all the way around Sherlock's waist. He pulls Sherlock close so his front is directly pressed to Sherlock's back. John wraps his other arm around Sherlock's waist and rests his cheek against Sherlock's back, right between his shoulder blades.

Sherlock places his hands on top of John's. His stomach flutters. He doesn't want to do anything that would set John off or make John change his mind, but he wants to turn around to hug John.

"You've been great, Sherlock," John says.

Sherlock just nods. He wants to tell John that he'd do anything for John, that if that Will man wasn't already shot, he'd find Will and kill him with his bare hands. Sherlock doesn't say anything, instead he nods again and strokes John's hands on his stomach.

"I'm sorry," John says.

"Don't be, John. It isn't your fault. It never is."

John nods against Sherlock's back.

John loosens his grip on Sherlock, so Sherlock turns around. He wraps his arms around John's neck and pulls him close. John hugs Sherlock back, and after a few minutes, Sherlock feels wetness on his t-shirt. He pulls back and looks at John's face.

"Hey, hey," Sherlock wipes tears from John's cheek. "Don't cry. Please."

"I can't help it, Sherlock. I'm sorry."

Sherlock hugs him again. "Don't be sorry."

John steadies his breathing but doesn't loosen his grip on Sherlock. "Will you sleep here tonight?" John asks.

Sherlock nods. He lets John go and lays on the bed, then holds his arms out to John. John climbs in and rests with his back to Sherlock. Sherlock takes the hint and wraps his arms around John. They quickly and silently fall asleep.

Not much happens for days after that. Sherlock doesn't sleep with John again, but he doesn't stop doing simple things for John. What is different, though, is that every time Sherlock does something for John, John hugs him. It might be a quick hug, but it's a hug.

Each time John hugs him, Sherlock feels pain. He thinks John is just giving him attention because he's the one here. He thinks John would behave the same for anybody who was doing things for him, even if it was a random stranger. This doesn't mean Sherlock wants to stop doing everything he can for John; at the very least, he owes John.

Three weeks after the incident, John fully comes around. He wakes up smiling and smiles wide at Sherlock when he walks into the kitchen to see Sherlock making him eggs.

"You can make eggs," John says, standing close to Sherlock and placing a hand on the small of Sherlock's back.

"I am able, you know."

John stands on tiptoe and peers over Sherlock's shoulder. John smiles and looks in Sherlock's face, and Sherlock looks over at him and half smiles.

After breakfast, John leaves to get dressed and Sherlock decides to do the same. Sherlock wears his normal clothing, nothing different from usual.

When John comes back downstairs, he looks Sherlock up and down and smiles. "You look amazing," John says.

"Please John," Sherlock replies, sitting in his chair. "This is how I always look."

"Well, you always look amazing." John goes to the coat rack and throws his on.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asks.

"For a walk. I need some fresh air. Would you like to join me?"

Sherlock thinks for a minute and is about to say no when John says, "Come on. A quick stroll through the park?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath and stands. "Alright," he says, grabbing his coat.

They walk to Regent's Park in silence. Sherlock stuffs his hands in his pockets and John smiles at the sky.

"Beautiful day," John says.

Sherlock looks up at the sky. "Bright."

"Well, yes. The sun is out today. It's beautiful."

Sherlock doesn't say anything.

They walk for about fifteen minutes before John grabs Sherlock's arm and stops him. Sherlock tenses but lets his body be pulled towards John.

"Sherlock, I need to say something," John says.

"Go ahead."

"It's just that…you've been so amazing these past two weeks. I was acting ridiculous—"

"You weren't acting, John. You were shocked and it was awful and I'm sorry."

John stares at Sherlock. "I wish you'd stop apologizing," he says. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was. I took you on the case, I told you to search the opposite direction away from me. I was supposed to protect you."

John crosses his arms. "Why is it _you_ who should protect _me_?"

Sherlock folds the collar of his coat up. He begins to talk, but John cuts him off as soon as he does.

"Oh, cut the shit, Sherlock. I'm trying to have a serious conversation."

Sherlock lowers his collar and tells John to proceed.

John grabs his hand and holds it tight. "You've been amazing, and I'm sorry. But I feel over it, I feel so much better. I'm ready to move on and continue our…" John shifts uncomfortably. "Our dating life. Together."

Sherlock stares at John and searches his face for signs of uneasiness. There is none. John looks calm as the sky and sane as anybody else.

"No," Sherlock says.

John looks shocked. "No?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "You're only doing this because I've been the one helping you the past few weeks. I've been the one to make you breakfast and tea and wash your sheets. That's all John. You don't want me. You can blame me. I know you want to."

John frowns and holds Sherlock's hand tighter.

"You're not ready, John. I'm not going to take you on any more big cases and I'm not going to help you do things anymore. I'm not having you break again, and soon you'll get over the little bit of infatuation you have for me."

"I'm not infatuated with you, Sherlock. Well, I am. But I'm in love with you."

Sherlock steps back in shock. "Don't say that."

"I will say it all I want: I love you, I love you, I love you."

Sherlock jerks his hand away. "Stop it."

"Why? Scared? Because you know I love you? I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, anything physical or otherwise. But I want to love you, Sherlock."

"Stop saying that!" Sherlock shouts. As soon as he has it out, he fears John is going to burst into tears or fall to the ground in fear, but John stands still as stoic as ever.

"Sherlock—" John starts with a deep voice, but Sherlock shakes his head and walks away. "Sherlock," John says so quietly Sherlock almost doesn't hear him.

Sherlock walks home and stomps to his room. He picks up the lamp that is on his bedside table and throws it against the far wall. He shouts in frustration and throws himself onto the bed, running fingers roughly through his curls and tugging lightly.

When John gets home it's dark outside and mostly dark in. He didn't want to go back to Sherlock after that, so he wandered until Sarah called him to check on him. He told Sarah he was out and not busy, so Sarah agreed to meet him for lunch, and after that he decided to take a very, very long walk.

"Sherlock?" John calls through the flat.

Sherlock doesn't answer, so John goes to his room to find him. He walks into Sherlock's room and sees Sherlock typing away on his laptop. In the dark.

"Why didn't you answer when I called for you?" John asks.

Sherlock shrugs.

John looks at his bedside table to the missing lamp. "Did you shoot your lamp?"

"Mrs. Hudson hid my gun."

"Good."

John stands awkwardly for a minute before he asks if he can sit. Sherlock nods and John sits on the bed by Sherlock's knee.

"Why did you run, Sherlock?"

Sherlock doesn't look up at John. "Because you don't love me."

"Yes, I do, Sherlock. I swear I do."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Stop telling me how I feel."

"Then stop pretending that you love me because I did a few nice things for you."

"A few? Sherlock you've been taking care of me for weeks. You care about me, I know you do. And I love you for it. You don't have to love me, just accept that I do, Sherlock. I very much do."

Sherlock finally closes his laptop and stares at John. "I don't believe you."

John stands, defeated. "Fine. You know what? Fine. Don't believe me." He walks to Sherlock's door and throws it open. "But I will show you," John says before exiting Sherlock's room and slamming the door.

John began with showing Sherlock the very next day. He started with breakfast. John had no such luck with the man who doesn't need to eat.

The next day, John made him tea seventeen times. He also had to wash the dishes twice. Unfortunately, the last time he made tea, he spilled on Sherlock's chair. Sherlock scowled and went to bed early.

The next day, John washed Sherlock's sheets. Sherlock decided to sleep on the couch.

The next day, John bought Sherlock a whole lot of sweets from the Tesco's. He even _made _Sherlock cookies. Sherlock actually did eat the cookies, but he didn't say anything more.

On the fifth day, John woke up scowly. He woke up far before Sherlock and stormed right to Sherlock's room. He slammed the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall and woke Sherlock.

"John?" Sherlock asks, rolling over onto his back.

John stomps right over to Sherlock's bed, leans over Sherlock, grabs Sherlock by those pretty cheek bones, slams his lips to Sherlock's, and does nothing more. They don't even close their eyes. They don't move for seconds, seemingly minutes, and finally John breaks away panting still.

"You are going on a fucking date with me tonight, Sherlock Holmes, because I fucking love you and god damn it, I want to date you."

Sherlock stares with wide eyes and doesn't move.

"Got it?" John shouts.

Sherlock nods.

"Good," John brushes the hair out of Sherlock's eyes. "Now go back to sleep, you look tired."

Sherlock nods again and watches John calmly leave the room.

That night they go on a date. They share a silent cab to the restaurant and silently enter to their table. They sit and stare at the menus, get their orders taken, and awkwardly sip their drinks.

"So," John starts.

"Mmm."

"What have you done since I've been…you know?"

"I haven't done anything."

"No experiments?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

A few minutes of silence later, John asks, "Are you completely hating being here?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

Sherlock flashes his eyes at John and quickly looks away.

"You're afraid to break me, aren't you?"

Sherlock looks at John.

"You're not going to break me, Sherlock."

"I have already."

"No you didn't. I wanted to go on the case, of course I did. I always want to. It was that guy, Sherlock. Not you."

"I should have been there—"

"Well you weren't, so let's get over it!" John snaps.

Sherlock takes a deep breath. "This was a bad idea."

"No, Sherlock, I'm sorry." John reaches across the table and takes Sherlock's hand. Sherlock doesn't pull away, but he doesn't grip back. "I love you. Please, please trust me."

Sherlock stares at John. _He's making eye contact. He's initiating touching. He's happy, it appears. He asked me here. He's told me he loves me and hasn't given up. _Sherlock grips John's hand back.

Right then, their food arrives. They let go of each other and eat, this time with conversation to fill.

On their walk home, John grabs Sherlock's hand and Sherlock holds his back. They stroll happily until they reach the door to 221B, then they pause.

"Are you ok?" John asks.

"Of course. Are you?"

John nods. He smiles at Sherlock, then reaches up and lightly kisses Sherlock. Sherlock kisses him back. It's small and sweet and everything they need.

"I love you," John says.

"I love you too," Sherlock replies.

John smiles. "Really?"

"Yes, of course."

John hugs Sherlock. "That's wonderful."

Sherlock hugs back and kisses the top of John's head.

They go up to their flat and retire to their own bedrooms. They both fall asleep smiling.

_***See, it's ok! They're ok! Yellow-Green's words are Admiration, Trust, and Acceptance. Stay tuned for more! Review, too! And thanks for reviewing so far! **_


	5. Chapter 5

_***Hello, all. Here marks the chapter where I up the rating and add a warning for sex. If you choose to skip this chapter, I'll recap at the beginning of next chapter. Thank you! **_

**Yellow**

"I love being with you," John says, stroking Sherlock's side. He shuffles closer to Sherlock. "I love this. Just this."

"We've been together every single day for a long time, John. This is hardly different."

"I didn't get to do this before," John closes the six inch gap between their mouths as he kisses Sherlock. John smiles against Sherlock's lips as they kiss. When they break apart, John smiles wide and says, "I could do that all day."

Sherlock looks over John's shoulder at the bedside clock. "Or until 7:30."

John groans. "Do we have to go to that today?"

"Yes, John. I've been looking forward to it for months, and if you want to make me happy—"

"Which I do—"

"Then we're going today."

John captures Sherlock's lips in another kiss.

"John…" Sherlock sighs between kisses.

"Yes, love?"

"Will you…"

"Mmm?"

"Make me some tea?"

John pulls away and stares at Sherlock. "You're joking."

Sherlock gives John his famous puppy dog eyes.

John playfully groans and moves to get out of bed. "Wanker," he mutters.

"Thank you!" Sherlock calls after him, as he buries his face into the pillow.

They get ready and head to Sherlock's appointment. That's what he keeps calling it; it's not an appointment. It's a new exhibit of mummies at the museum.

Sherlock's absolutely giddy on the cab ride over. He doesn't stop moving or talking the whole way.

"The artifacts, John, you couldn't believe it," he says, not being able to finish a sentence.

John giggles the whole time. John's not one to enjoy museums, but he is very happy because today marks his and Sherlock's three month affair. And John thinks tonight is the night.

John's respected Sherlock's wishes, beliefs, feelings, fears, everything. He hasn't pushed Sherlock too far and doesn't wish to. They've talked a lot about it and John's been trying to make Sherlock as comfortable as possible for the past three months, and John thinks tonight is the night he and Sherlock have sex. John's ready, and he hopes Sherlock is, too.

Sherlock bounces all through the museum. He leads John straight to the exhibit, talking a mile a minute the entire time. John follows close behind and laughs at Sherlock when he nearly trips over a little girl and says, "Whoopsie!"

Once they get to the mummies, Sherlock takes out his tiny magnifying glass and examines the first one. He examines her for a good half an hour before moving to the next, John just watching the whole time.

Five hours later, they leave the museum. John links their hands and Sherlock lets him. John pulls him through the streets, and when they stop at a street crossing, John pulls the taller man in for a kiss. Sherlock giggles, tries to pull away, but John kisses him anyway.

When they get home, they take a nap. Around five, they wake up and decide to have a date at Angelo's.

"This is nice," Sherlock says as he sips his wine.

"It is," John says, smiling.

"Listen John," Sherlock starts seriously. "You've been very patient for three months, longer if you count the time since our first date, and I feel as though it's time for us to engage in intercourse."

John literally spits out his wine. "What? Sherlock, that was…"

"I've learned that the easiest way to talk about something some people find uncomfortable is to state it bluntly."

John looks around to make sure nobody can hear them. "Sherlock, there's such thing as blunt, and such thing as private."

Sherlock looks confused. "I don't understand."

John looks around again. "You can't just state loudly that it's time we," John whispers, "Have sex."

"Why not?"

John rubs his hand over his face. "We just don't, love. Ok? We'll talk about this when we get home."

Sherlock finally accepts and continues drinking his wine.

Three glasses later, neither care about who listens.

"So, you think you're ready?" John asks.

"Yes. I'm ready for you to fuck me, John," Sherlock states.

John's eye brows rise to his hair line. He laughs. "That was loud, Sherlock!"

Sherlock laughs. "But I'm _so _ready."

They leave Angelo's and quickly walk home. They're ready and eager.

As soon as Sherlock's got the door open, he steps through and pulls John by the coat collar in. He closes the door and pushes John against the wall in one motion. He presses the entire length of his body against John and sticks his tongue in John's mouth. He places his hands on John's neck and pulls John close.

John kisses Sherlock back, gladly, and places his hands on Sherlock's hips. Sherlock moans and moves to unbutton John's shirt, but John grabs his hands.

"Upstairs," John says against Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock nods and quickly pulls John upstairs. Once there, he resumes downstair's mission and pushes John against the wall again. John joins in fully this time, pulling Sherlock's shirt from his trousers and beginning to unbutton. When it's fully unbuttoned, he stops kissing Sherlock and looks down at his chest, shirt hanging open and coat still around his shoulders.

"Beautiful," John says, running fingertips down Sherlock's chest and torso. He reaches Sherlock's belt buckle and looks back into Sherlock's face. "So fucking beautiful." John attacks Sherlock's lips once again.

Sherlock shrugs his coat off, then his shirt. John, likewise, pulls his coat off and drops it to the floor. John then grabs the back of Sherlock's head and pushes him towards Sherlock's bedroom, still while kissing. When they enter the kitchen, they unhand each other and toe shoes off, and John pulls his jumper over his head. Sherlock picks at John's shirt buttons and kisses him again, while pushing John backwards towards his bedroom.

"Why are you wearing so many layers?" Sherlock demands when he strips John of his shirt and John's still got a t-shirt on. "In the future, I demand fewer layers."

John pulls his shirt over his head. "Deal," John says, kissing Sherlock again.

They finally reach the doorway to Sherlock's bedroom and everything slows down. They pull completely off each other and just looked.

"Are you sure?" John asks.

"Absolutely," Sherlock replies. "I love you. I've never felt anything for anybody before, but you I fell in love with. And I want you so bad, John. I know you do, too."

John nods. "I really fucking want you, Sherlock."

Sherlock nods, and that seems to give John the permission to lead. He grabs Sherlock's hand and leads him to Sherlock's bed. They both sit facing each other on the bed.

"How do you feel?" John asks.

"Excited."

"Excited or nervous?"

"Just excited."

"Good," John says. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to, ok? Are you positive you're up for this?"

Sherlock nods. "Don't scare me out of it, John."

John laughs and pats Sherlock's knee. "I would never. I'm just as excited as you are. This is just a big thing."

"I know, and I have a big enough brain to tell me I'm ready. I'm thirty-eight years old."

"But there's a reason you've waited this long, Sherlock. I want you to be absolutely sure."

"I am."

John smiles. "Ok, then."

John stretches over to kiss Sherlock. It's slow at first, but soon Sherlock feels John's tongue on his lips and he opens his mouth. John slowly leads Sherlock down to his back and lays half over him.

Sherlock runs his hands up and down the parts of John he can reach: head, back, and arms. He tries to pull John closer, but John doesn't let him. Instead, John reaches over and undoes Sherlock's belt buckle with one hand. At the click, John smiles. He continues undoing Sherlock's trousers; button, zipper, then he pushes the opening flaps out of the way and runs his hand over the underwear over Sherlock's hips.

John looks down at his hand on Sherlock's pants. "Smooth," he says.

Sherlock nods.

John kneels and pulls Sherlock's pants off. He stares down at Sherlock, from his pants to his face. "Beautiful," he says. He pulls Sherlock's pants off and watches Sherlock's long, hard cock spring free. His mouth goes a bit dry.

John kisses Sherlock's knee, then falls over Sherlock once again; half on top of him and half on the bed. He attacks Sherlock's face once again, this time leaving sloppy kisses everywhere. He finally latches on to Sherlock's neck, the same time he grabs Sherlock's cock. Sherlock moans loud and involuntarily thrusts up.

Sherlock lets John service him for long minutes, then frantically unbuckles John's belt. He unbuttons and unzips, and doesn't even take John's trousers off before he dips his hand into John's pants. He moans when he feels John's cock.

John gets quickly tired of his trousers restricting him, so he lays on his back, digs his heels into the bed, pushes his hips up, and shoves his trousers and pants off. Then, he rolls over onto Sherlock and rests between his legs.

"I love you," John says. It's a question, it's John trying to be assured that Sherlock's ok.

Sherlock nods. "I know John, and I love you, too."

John smiles down at Sherlock. He kisses Sherlock once and disappears to the bedside table. He hid lube there weeks ago, just if they needed it by any chance.

"Ok, I'm going to prepare you now, love," John says. "You need to tell me if you're uncomfortable, or if it hurts."

Sherlock nods and takes a deep breath. "I will."

John settles between Sherlock's legs, sitting back on his heels, and pours lube onto his fingers. He looks down between Sherlock's legs, then up at his face. He locks eyes with Sherlock, then rubs the tip of his finger around Sherlock's entrance.

Sherlock shudders. His breathing hitches and he blinks a few times.

"Uncomfortable?" John asks.

"Tickles," Sherlock truthfully replies.

John smiles. "Never hear that before."

"Done this to many men?"

John feels Sherlock tense lessen as the talk, so he presses the tip of his finger into Sherlock. Sherlock shudders.

"That's a conversation for a different time," John says, distracting Sherlock.

Sherlock smiles. "I'd rather have it now. I want to know how many men there have been before your dick goes in me."

John laughs. He feels Sherlock untense again and he presses his finger deeper into Sherlock. "There have been two other men, that's all. And you know I was just tested."

"I was testing you," Sherlock answers, arching his back. "I want to make sure you still have your head on straight."

John pushes his finger all the way into Sherlock, but avoids his prostate. "I haven't got any head on straight with you like this under me." John slowly begins to circle his finger around inside Sherlock. "You're so beautiful," John says.

Sherlock bites his lip and moans, never taking his eyes off John's. He breathes deep and lets John finger him.

"How does it feel?" John asks.

"Amazing," Sherlock answers, then moans. "Perfect," another moan. "I want you," another longer moan.

John pulls his finger out and adds more lube to his middle finger before pressing both his index and middle fingers into Sherlock. Sherlock arches up off the bed and John bends down to suck on his nipples. Sherlock's hand tangles into John's hair as he moans and pumps his hips upwards to meet John's fingers.

"So good," Sherlock says, "So fucking good."

John lightly bites his nipple, then sucks his way up to Sherlock's neck. He licks around Sherlock's throat, then jugular, then licks a line to Sherlock's ear. He sticks his tongue into Sherlock's ear and Sherlock moans loud and pulls John's hair.

"John, oh, _John_…" Sherlock moans.

John scissors his fingers inside Sherlock to stretch him more than pleasure him. He wants to make sure Sherlock's good and ready for his first time. After a few minutes, he adds more lube and a third finger, it sliding in easily next to the other two. This time, he presses lightly to Sherlock's prostate.

Sherlock digs his fingers into John's shoulders and nearly shouts. "Oh my god!" he shouts, before moaning loudly and pumping his hips faster.

"I'm ready, please John, _please_," he begs after a few minutes.

"Yes, yes ok," John says, pulling his fingers out of Sherlock and smearing a hefty amount of lube onto his throbbing cock. "How?" he asks Sherlock.

"I want to be on top," Sherlock says. "I want to ride you."

John's eyes flutter at Sherlock's words. Yesterday John wasn't sure Sherlock even knew the dynamics of sex, today he's saying words like 'ride you'.

"Yes, ok," John repeats. He positions himself at the head of the bed, his head on the pillows. He lays flat and Sherlock straddles his hips. "Whenever you're ready," John says.

Sherlock wastes no time. He hovers over John's cock, takes hold of John, lines up, and sinks down.

"Oh my god!" John shouts. He arches off the bed and smoothes a hand over Sherlock's chest, the other touching Sherlock's thigh. "Jesus, are you ok? That was too fast, love,"

Sherlock shakes his head, "Perfect, so perfect." Sherlock again wastes no time and begins circling his hips. He groans.

"No, not yet!" John says. "You need to adjust! Fuck, I need to adjust."

"How does it feel?" Sherlock pants.

"Tight. So fucking tight."

John relaxes against the bed and looks up at Sherlock. He looks Sherlock up and down, from his eyes to his cock resting on John's stomach. When his breathing settles, he pulls Sherlock down to kiss him.

Sherlock takes the hint and begins to move. He lets John's cock slide in and out of him, each time never slipping all the way out. It's slow and perfect for both of them.

John stops kissing him, but doesn't let go of him. John wraps his arms around Sherlock's neck and makes him stay in that position. Sherlock doesn't protest, he wants to be touching as much of John as possible.

After many minutes, Sherlock pulls off John and rests his hands on either side of John's head, extending his arms all the way and now hovering over John. The change of angle makes him moan and throw his head back, revealing his long neck. John pushes himself up and sucks on Sherlock's neck, making the man on top moan and hump just a bit faster.

John falls against the bed again and begins thrusting up to meet each of Sherlock's down. They both moan and John scratches down Sherlock's back, then rests his hands on Sherlock's hips. John continues to thrust up.

Minutes later, Sherlock groans in frustration.

"What's wrong?" John asks.

"Feels to fucking good, John, I can't…"

"Let go whenever you want love, I need to feel you first."

Sherlock nods. He doesn't move anything but his hips for a few seconds, then he sits completely up over John, resting his hands on John's thighs.

"Oh my god!" John shouts, arching his back. The change of position feels exponentially amazing for him, and if he's any judge to the sounds Sherlock's making, Sherlock too.

Sherlock begins rotating his hips in circles instead of up and down. He throws his head back and moans loud, John's cock constantly circling his prostate instead of hitting it with individual thrusts.

"So fucking good, John," he pants.

"Where did you learn to do this?" John needs to know.

"Internet. Stop talking," he answers, never stopping his rhythm.

Sherlock looks down at John, still in the same position, only he reaches around himself and takes hold of his own cock. He makes no noise, only small pants of pleasure with his mouth hanging open and his eyes fixed on John's. John keeps hold of his hips, not daring to move a muscle. Sherlock frantically begins to beat himself off, and in second he's coming all over John's stomach. He makes no sound while doing so, only keeping his eyes open for John to see him like that.

Seeing Sherlock like that drags John over the edge. As soon as he sees Sherlock's eyes change and feels his arse tighten around John, John comes deep inside his love.

When their orgasms end, Sherlock falls boneless on top of John. John holds him tight and pats his head, pressing kisses into his sweaty mop.

"Oh my god," he pants, "That was perfect."

Sherlock just nods into John's neck.

"I love you so much," John says, his breath still not caught.

"I love you," Sherlock replies, he too out of breath.

Sherlock rolls off John after a few minutes and lays on his back. John gets them a wet cloth and cleans himself, then Sherlock. After, he returns to the bed and wraps his arms around Sherlock.

"Are you ok?" John asks.

"Never better," Sherlock says.

John smiles. "Good." He pulls Sherlock closer and holds him tight.

They lay in silence, and John thinks Sherlock's fallen asleep, until Sherlock says, "I'm so happy, John."

John smiles and kisses Sherlock's lips. "I am too. I really am."

Sherlock smiles. He's silent again for a minute, then asks, "Can we make this a regular thing?"

"What?"

"Orgasms."

John snorts. "How regular?"

"Daily?" Sherlock asks. "Bi-daily would be ideal. You have no idea how clear my head is right now."

John laughs. "I'm not as young as I used to be," he says. "I fear I may be a bit disappointing in this area."

Sherlock looks at him seriously. "You don't have to come every time I do."

John laughs. "And how is that fair?"

"Well, I _am _as young as you used to be—"

"Oi!" John stops him. "I'm not that old!"

Sherlock smiles and turns onto his side to wrap his arms around John, too. He kisses John. "I know," he says, then closes his eyes.

John smiles and joins Sherlock in sleep.

_***Hello. Yellow's words are Ecstasy, Joy, and Serenity. Thanks for reading!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Orange**

The morning after they slept together for the first time, they both wake up incredibly happy. John wakes up with a goofy grin on his face, and Sherlock laughs at him when he first opens his eyes.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Sherlock laughs.

John continues grinning. "I made love to you last night."

"Oh god," Sherlock mutters, turning onto his back. "Please don't put it that way. We had sex, we engaged in intercourse, we fucked. We did not make love."

"But I love you," John says, rolling on top of Sherlock. He kisses Sherlock's nose and smiles. "Last night I showed you."

Sherlock smiles. "You show me all the time," Sherlock pauses to kiss John. "You can show me right now."

John looks excited. "What do you have in mind?"

Sherlock snuggles deeper into the bed. "I'd love some tea," he says.

John leans in to kiss him, but stops right before he meets Sherlock's lips. "You're kidding, right?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I've got to get in the shower. Lestrade's already called twice."

"How do you know? The phones are already in the sitting room."

"I can still hear it," Sherlock says, trying to sit up with John still on top of him. "Tea?" Sherlock demands.

John huffs and rolls his eyes. "You're lucky I love you," he says, getting off the bed and leaving the room.

Sherlock smiles. "Thank you!" he calls after John.

Two hours later they arrive at Lestrade's office. Lestrade hands Sherlock a file without saying anything. Lestrade sits behind his desk and waits for Sherlock to read the briefing.

"Tonight, then?" Sherlock asks.

"Tonight, at sunset we set up camp."

Sherlock stands and strides towards the door. "You could have called me for this."

"You wouldn't answer your phone."

Sherlock opens the door and leaves, while John stands dazed in the room still.

"John!" Sherlock calls.

John quickly trots after him.

"What's going on?" John asks.

Sherlock clears his throat, shakes his head, and waits for the elevator door.

"You're not going to tell me?" John asks.

Sherlock shakes his head again. The elevator arrives and Sherlock steps in, John follows.

It's silent for one floor, then John realizes why Sherlock won't tell him. "You don't want to take me, do you?"

Sherlock glances at John, then quickly away.

"I'm not broken Sherlock. I can go wherever you go."

Sherlock doesn't bother looking at him. The elevator stops at the bottom and Sherlock gets out, John follows.

"Come on, Sherlock. Tell me what it is!"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"At least tell me what it is. If I don't think I'll be ok, I'll stay out of it. I promise."

Sherlock glances at John and sighs. "Fine. It's a stakeout."

"That's it? Who are we spying on?"

"_We _aren't spying on anyone. _I _am spying on a gang of drug lords."

"I'm going then," John says.

"No, you are not. I'm not risking you getting hurt—"

John stops Sherlock in the street. "I won't get hurt. It'll be fine. Think about it: something we enjoy, spending time with someone we like. It'll be great. Just let me come along."

Sherlock huffs and sighs. "Fine. But you stay in the van if things get hot."

John smiles. "I will."

Sherlock looks down at John and gives his half, shy smile. "Come on, I've got things to do."

At sunset they head to the scene. They get in Lestrade's van and Lestrade looks at Sherlock, then looks worriedly at John.

"I'm _fine,_" John responds.

Lestrade shrugs and offers them two seats. Then, he briefs them. "We're waiting for these men," Lestrade shows them the mugshots of the two men. "They may or may not show up tonight, but we just need to find the trend they come in. We need to know what's going on when they arrive, if there's a factor that makes them arrive, and what time they come. We'll probably be staking out the next few weeks."

John listens, but when Lestrade is finished, he looks confused. "Why are we here? Why was Sherlock called? Couldn't your men stakeout?"

Sherlock turns to John. "Thirteen years ago, I made Lestrade promise me that I could be in on anything that has to do with this pair. I've been waiting a long time for this."

"Why?" John asks.

"They were the first people who outsmarted me. I need payback."

John smiles. "Let's catch some bad guys, then."

Two hours later, John is sitting back in his seat, his head up towards the ceiling, spitting his gum out of his mouth and catching it.

Sherlock glares at him and minute and rolls his eyes. "Could you not be so childish?"

"I'm bored," John says.

"You're the one who needed to come along."

"I'd rather be bored here than at home without you."

Sherlock sighs. "That is rather sweet, John, but you're being distracting."

John looks at Sherlock. "Can I just bother you for one more minute?"

Sherlock looks at John, annoyed. "What?"

John quickly leans over and leaves a peck on Sherlock's lips. Sherlock looks stunned and leans back.

"John!"

John grins at him.

"I'm working!"

"They're not going to come in the next two minutes," John says. "I think you'll live."

Sherlock looks back at the screens. "Stop being so immature, John."

John sits back and leans his head back again. He begins to spit his gum out when Sherlock shouts, "Stop!" John quickly sits up and stares at the screens with Sherlock.

Half an hour later, John finally asks, "What did you nick these two for all those years ago, anyway?"

"It started when this one," Sherlock points to one mugshot, "James. His wife suspected him cheating on her and she hired me to find out. I was just starting then and I took anything that came my way. While on the job, I discovered he was involved with a big drug gang. I went to Lestrade, he helped a bit, arrested James and his partner," Sherlock points to the second mugshot, "Henry, and they went to prison."

"How did they outsmart you?"

"In their trial, they were found innocent. I still don't know how. I was on their tail for a few years, but I lost track of the case. And here we are now."

John nods in acceptance. "Wow. It all started with a suspecting wife."

Sherlock nods in agreement.

"One time," John starts, "I found out one of my girlfriends cheated on me and I found out she had a husband and two kids already."

"Interesting," Sherlock absentmindedly says.

"I guess. Got me out quick, though. Wasn't even the first girlfriend to cheat on me."

Sherlock nods, then looks at John. "John, I think now is a good time to ask a question I've been meaning to."

"Yes?"

"How many partners have you had?"

John sits back in his chair again and thinks. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious. As someone I would enjoy spending my life with, I'd like to know everything about you. Your number of sexual partners is something I have yet to be able to deduce. Asking is just more simple."

John makes a slow grin. "You want to spend your life with me?"

Sherlock snaps his head at John. "Don't avoid the question."

John grins and looks at the monitors again.

"Answer!" Sherlock snaps.

"I'm thinking!"

Five minutes later, John finds his answer. "Not many, really. A couple men, more women."

"How many?"

"Why do you want to know?" John seriously asks.

"I just want to know, John. I assure you, my views of you won't change depending on the number." Sherlock waits for John to answer, then adds, "The average number of sexual partners for a man is seven to nine."

John sighs. "Fine. I've slept with fifteen and a half women."

"Half?"

"It was just oral sex."

"Hmm," Sherlock hums.

"What? Too many?" John rubs his face. "Look, it was long before I met you. I travelled a lot. I was lonely. From the time I moved back to London to now, it's been three women and you. I promise, Sherlock—"

"It's fine, John. I'm not upset."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I wanted to know."

John nods. "Great. Thank you for asking and being mature about it."

"Of course," Sherlock says, no longer really listening.

An hour later, the number of John's sexual partners invades Sherlock's head. _It isn't a large number_, Sherlock thinks, _but it's higher than average. I wonder why so many. Travel and loneliness only go so far. _

"John," Sherlock starts. "Why did you have so many girlfriends?"

"Well, I travelled, like I said. And I was lonely—"

"No, I'm asking why you broke up with so many women. Why haven't you found anyone to settle with?"

"Hey," John says. "I have you and I don't plan on that changing."

"Again, very sweet, John, but I'd like to know the answer."

John thinks for a minute. "I don't know. There was cheating, and some were women I knew I couldn't be with forever. And, I don't know, I guess some of them just bored me after a while."

"Bored you?"

"Yes. Don't you ever get bored with me?"

"Never, that's why I like you."

John smiles. "Well, anyway," he continues, "I don't know why I hadn't found anyone before you. Nobody gave me everything I need, I guess."

"What makes you think I can?"

"I never found reason to wait for you for three years. Had you never come back to me, I'd still be waiting. I just know you can give me what I want, Sherlock."

"But how can you be sure? How do I know you're not going to wake up bored tomorrow and leave? Because leaving is what you will do. You wouldn't continue living with me if we break up."

"Hey, hey," John grabs Sherlock's hand. "Look at me. I love you. Ok? I've never loved anyone before, not really. Just you. Got it?"

Sherlock nods. "Ok, John."

John takes hold of Sherlock's chin and pulls him forward, making their lips meet for just a second.

The rest of the night goes by fairly quick. The two men show up to the club at 11:36, and after that, Sherlock and John go home. They silently go to bed and John quickly falls asleep.

Sherlock, however, lays awake and stares at the ceiling. _All of his relationships ended, _Sherlock thinks. _When will ours end?_

The next few weeks go by slowly. Sherlock catches the two men during a drug trade in a different club, and they get sent to prison. His work life goes well, but in his personal life, Sherlock goes through a few weeks of confusing time.

Nearly every day, Sherlock finds something else John might leave over. John gets upset at his messes, John gets annoyed with Sherlock ignores him. All of these things happened before their conversation in the van, but now they stand out to Sherlock because of the conversation. _When will John leave? _Sherlock asks himself every day.

What happens after a while is Sherlock begins to dwell on the question so much that he begins to not care about what he does wrong. Each time John gets upset with him, Sherlock doesn't attempt to offer his apology; he just waits for John to get so upset to leave. After a while, Sherlock doesn't even bother doing things 'right'; he doesn't try to be a good partner for John. He just waits for John to leave.

One day, one month after the conversation in the van, John gets called in from Sarah to work at the clinic. John doesn't want to, but he agrees because they could use the money.

When he's gone, Sherlock decides to conduct an experiment he's wanted to do, but needed John to be gone. Sherlock just knows it'll make a mess.

A few hours later, Sherlock's just about to finish his experiment and record all of his data when he's done. All he has to do is drop this tiny bit of gasoline into this beaker filled with iodine over heat and—

There's an explosion.

"I did not anticipate that," Sherlock says to nobody.

Sherlock doesn't even hear John come into the room when he hears John say, "What the fuck did you do?"

Sherlock looks up at John, his fringe singed and his eyelashes burning. There's a minor fire on the kitchen table, and John rushes to the fire extinguisher. He sprays the fire out and rushes to the sink, wetting a cloth and rushing to Sherlock.

"Are you ok?" John asks, his voice deep and serious.

"I'm fine," Sherlock says.

John presses the cloth to Sherlock's face and rubs his hair back. He wipes black streaks from Sherlock's face and dabs his eyelashes.

"Your eyebrows are still intact, at least," John says.

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just lets John tend to him.

When John's finished, he stands, throws the cloth in the sink, and stomps down the hall to their bathroom. Sherlock hangs his head and waits for the inevitable. He can tell how mad John is just by the way John walked. _This is it, _Sherlock thinks.

Sherlock stands and follows John to the restroom. He waits outside the door, against the other wall, and after a minute John emerges from the restroom. John glares at him for a second, then walks through the door to Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock follows and stands just inside the room.

"What the hell were you thinking?" John shouts.

Sherlock doesn't answer.

"Seriously, Sherlock. What the fuck were you trying to do there? Get yourself killed? You don't light gasoline on fire!"

Sherlock doesn't answer still.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Sherlock. You haven't been right lately," John looks at Sherlock for the first time since cleaning his face. "What's going on with you?"

Sherlock looks at John bashfully with his chin down and his eyes up. "I'm waiting for you to leave," he says.

"You what?" John asks.

"I'm waiting for you to leave!" Sherlock shouts.

"Are you trying to make me leave? Because I swear, Sherlock, for the past few weeks you've been really pissing me off with all of your annoying behavior. I liked it better when we hadn't even kissed yet, because at that point you were still waiting for me to do it so you were so much nicer, cleaner, and more considerate."

"No, I'm not trying to make you leave," Sherlock says. "I'm just waiting for you to and I'm trying not to care when you do."

"You won't care if I leave?"

"When, John, _when. _When you leave."

"I'm not leaving!" John shouts.

"Well why not? You've left every one else you've ever shagged."

"You're not just someone else I shag, Sherlock. You're my flatmate, my friend, my boyfriend, my—"

"I'm hardly a _boy _John."

"Fine. My partner, then. Whatever, Sherlock. Whatever you want to call what we have, Sherlock, it's not ending soon."

"I can never be too sure, John."

John steps closer to Sherlock, right in front of him. John softly speaks, "I can be sure, Sherlock. I'm positive I'm not going anywhere soon."

"I can never be sure, John."

"No, you can't. But I can never be sure, either. I love you, and I trust that you're not going to go anywhere." John steps right up to Sherlock, their bellies touching.

"I love you too, John," Sherlock whispers before John kisses him.

A few days later, not much has changed. Sherlock makes it clear he doesn't believe John won't leave, even though Sherlock does try harder to be more considerate like he was before he and John got together. But it's still very obvious that Sherlock doesn't believe him, which continuously makes John more and more angry. He doesn't talk to Sherlock about it, so the anger continues.

_***This chapter's color is Orange and the words are Vigilance, Anticipation, and Interest. **_


	7. Chapter 7

**Red**

Over the course of the next few weeks, nothing gets better. Sherlock continues to act as normal, if normal means being inconsiderate of the fact that he lives with someone else. He's horrible to live with, and each day he asks himself when John will leave.

John's patience wears thin. Sure, he loves Sherlock. He won't stop loving Sherlock. But that doesn't mean he has to like Sherlock acting horrible. Each time there's a new experiment blocking the bathtub, or a head in the fridge (again!), John fumes with anger and takes a long walk. Sherlock never says he's sorry.

Finally, John grows so fed up that he can't hold it in any longer.

"God damn it, Sherlock!" John shouts from the bathroom.

Sherlock calmly closes his laptop and sits patiently on the couch.

John stomps into the living room. "Why the _fuck _are there tentacles in the bathtub?"

Sherlock calmly looks up at him. "There was no room in the—"

"In the fridge," John adds for him. "I know, Sherlock, that's why there's no room for my bloody milk! Why, oh _why_, do you feel the need to annoy the shit out of me?!"

Sherlock slowly blinks. _This is it, _he thinks. "Are you going to leave?" he asks.

John stares at him long and hard. "You know what?" he finally asks. "Yeah, I am."

Sherlock's heart literally stops. He isn't sure when it begins beating again, but before he knows it, John's got his duffel bag packed and it sitting in his chair tying his shoes.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock demands.

John looks up at him and glares. "What's it to you?"

Sherlock swallows. "You can't just leave."

"Oh yeah?" John stands and pulls his duffel over his shoulder. "You gonna stop me?"

Sherlock doesn't move.

"Didn't think so," John says, turning to the door. He stands still and grabs the doorknob, then turns back to Sherlock. "I didn't think you'd be like any of my past relationships," John says, then opens the door and walks out.

Sherlock doesn't process anything that's happened until he hears the front door open. Then, he stands and runs after John. He's got no shoes, and he's not wearing trousers, but he runs after John all the same.

"John!" he calls as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "John!" He runs out the door that John just slammed shut.

Sherlock runs to the street after John. "John!" he calls again.

This time John hears him loud and clear. "What!" John yells as he turns around.

Sherlock's mind goes blank. He wants to say a million words and finds none. So all he softly says is, "I love you."

John stares at him with an angry filter over his eyes. He loves Sherlock so much that for their own good, he says, "I love you, too," turns, and walks down the street.

Sherlock feels like throwing up as John walks away, but he doesn't. Instead, he becomes aware that he's half nude in the middle of Baker Street, so he goes back to his flat and goes straight to bed. It's three P.M., the sun is bright, he does have many, many emails to answer, but all he feels like doing is dying. Soon, he falls asleep.

John wanders until he realizes he's got nowhere to go. He doesn't have work tomorrow, so he knows he could get out of London. He takes that idea.

"Harry!" John says as his sister answers.

"You sound overly pleased to speak to me," she observes.

"Listen," he jumps straight to it. "I need a place to stay."

An hour later, he arrives at Harry's house. As soon as he walks through the door, Harry attacks him with questions.

"What'd he do now?" she asks.

"He didn't really do anything."

"Then why are you here?"

John drops his bag next to the sofa. "Well, he didn't do anything out of normal."

"So he was an annoying twat and you needed out?"

John nods. "Yes. Pretty much."

Harry sits back against the sofa and turns the television on. "Stay here as long as you need, then," she says.

John smiles. He knows Harry's treatments are helping her, and he doesn't think staying there will be that bad.

Wrong. John's over it the next day when Harry wakes him up at 6 A.M.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks as she noisily throws things throughout the room.

"I'm trying to find my shoes," she answers.

"For what?!"

"To go jogging."

"What the fuck are you going jogging for?"

"Could you stop the swearing, John? Geez."

John sits up on the sofa he was sleeping on. "Well why are you going jogging?"

"It's part of my treatment. I have to exercise."

"Good. That's good then."

Harry finds her shoes, slips them on, and heads for the door. "There's food, whatever. Are you going to stay another day?"

John sighs. "I don't know. Probably."

Harry nods. "Ok, see you later."

John waves her goodbye.

By 10 A.M., John is bored. He's so happy when his phone rings. Part of him expects it to be Sherlock trying to apologize, though he knows Sherlock wouldn't. Another part of him expects it to be Sarah calling him into the clinic. When it's neither of the two, John looks at it in surprise. "Oh," he mutters, clicking send. "Hello?"

"John!" Lestrade's voice reverberates to him. "How quickly can you be at a scene?"

"About an hour," John replies.

"Perfect. I'll text you the details."

John tells Harry he may or may not be back, but he takes his belongings anyway. He doesn't have time to take them home, so John takes them to the scene with him.

"Going somewhere?" Sally asks as John walks up to the scene with his bag.

"Just arriving, actually."

Sally doesn't need to be a deductive genius to know where John went. "You finally got tired of him, did you?"

John glares at her. "It wasn't like that." He tosses his duffel into the open window of Lestrade's cruiser and walks towards the crowd surrounding Lestrade.

"What is it?" John asks as he walks up.

"Finally here," Lestrade says. He points to three bodies laying in a puddle. "Take a look," he adds.

John looks around. "No Sherlock?"

Lestrade shrugs. "He wouldn't get out of bed. What happened between you two?"

John kneels next to the bodies. "Let's not," he says, examining a neck without a head.

Half an hour later, John's finished with looking the bodies over. He, of course, doesn't give Lestrade the same conclusions Sherlock would, but over the years, John's learned the steps of Sherlock's brain. He gives Lestrade what he gathered, grabs his duffel, and leaves.

John grows hungry on the walk to wherever, and decides to go home. John takes a deep breath as he unlocks the door. He closes it, slowly walks up the stairs, and opens the door. Sherlock's not in the living room, so John assumes he is still in their bed. So, he goes to their bed.

"Sherlock?" John asks as he walks down the hall.

Sherlock doesn't answer.

John opens their door and sees a Sherlock shaped lump on the bed. John walks over and places a hand on his hip. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock turns over under John's touch. "John." he states.

John sees that he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, which were the same clothes he was wearing the day before. John can see how badly Sherlock hurts, just by the state he's in and the look on his face. Sherlock looks sad, tired. John runs fingers through his hair.

"You're back," Sherlock says.

John cracks a smile. "Yeah, I'm back."

Sherlock nods.

John leans down and kisses Sherlock's forehead, then his lips. It's a small kiss, very quick and sweet. Then, John stands and toes his shoes off. "Hungry?" he asks.

Sherlock nods. John goes to the kitchen to make lunch.

The first few days after John comes home is great. They're happy, they kiss, they hug, they have amazing sex. John's so happy, and he's sure Sherlock is too. Of course Sherlock doesn't show it the same, but every night before bed, Sherlock tells John he loves him three times.

Everything is good.

Until.

Four days after John's return to Baker Street, John and Sherlock get called to a case. They meet Lestrade at the scene, Sherlock gets deducing, and John sits back and watches.

"So you two worked everything out?" Lestrade asks.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Everything is perfectly fine," John says.

"Good. I was worried about you two."

John smiles. "You were? That's sweet."

Lestrade shyly grins. "Yeah, you know? You're my mates. I don't want to see you two hurt."

John looks at him. "Did Mycroft tell you to ask?"

Lestrade nods. "Yes, he did."

John laughs. "Well, next time he calls to check up, tell him we are fine."

Lestrade nods and laughs.

A while later, Sherlock is finished with the scene and pulls John along to a cab to go to the lab. They sit in silence until Sherlock asks, "John?"

John looks at him. "Yes?"

"Why did Lestrade ask if we worked everything out?"

John answers sarcastically without trying to be sarcastic. "Because he's concerned for us?"

Sherlock sighs. "I mean, _why_ did he ask?"

"I don't understand."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "How did Lestrade know we went through a," he absentmindedly waves a hand, "A rough patch?"

John nods in understanding. "Oh," he says, looking back out his window. "A few days ago I had to go to a scene because you wouldn't get out of bed."

"Oh, yes," Sherlock responds. "The day after you left me," he bluntly says.

John looks at Sherlock with wide eyes. "Sherlock, I didn't—"

Sherlock quickly gets out of the car and slams the door. It takes John a moment to realize they stopped, and even longer to realize they're at Bart's. John gets out of the car and follows him.

Sherlock works in silence, and a few hours later they head home. Sherlock is silent, but John needs to talk.

"We need to talk about what you said earlier, Sherlock."

"When I stated that you left me?" Sherlock asks, hanging the coat he doesn't need to be wearing.

"Yes, we need to talk about that."

"I figured as much," he says, sitting calmly at the kitchen table.

John leans over the chair opposite Sherlock. "Ok," he starts, "Why did you say that?"

Sherlock looks at him with a confused look. "Because you did."

"I didn't _leave _you, Sherlock—"

"What did you do the other day?"

"Well…I…left—"

Sherlock raises his eyebrows.

"But I didn't _leave_! I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, John. You are now, but you weren't for one whole night."

"So you're upset about that?"

"Of course I am!" Sherlock shouts. "Of course I'm upset that you left me."

"Look, I only left because you didn't put up a fight."

"I didn't put up a fight?"

"You didn't ask me to stay."

"I told you that I love you! That wasn't a fight enough for you?"

John shakes his head. "No, it wasn't."

"So let me get this straight," Sherlock says, standing. "I'm upset because you left me. You left me because I didn't put up a fight. I said I love you, but that wasn't enough of a fight. Am I right?"

John nods. "Pretty much. Why can't you just get over it, Sherlock? I'm here, you're here, let's move on."

Sherlock nods. "Ok, John," he says, kissing John's cheek. "Dinner?"

Of course John knows it's too good to be true.

Three days after their conversation, Sherlock mentions again that John left him.

Two days after that, Sherlock mentions it again.

Four days after that, Sherlock does it once again.

Each time, John just sighs and resumes whatever he was doing, but the third time after they talked about it, John grows angry. They're in the middle of Tesco's, where Sherlock didn't even want to go, and he says it to John again.

"Enough, Sherlock!" John shouts, dropping a can of beans on the floor. Sherlock watches it fall from John's hand, then watches it hit the ground. Once it explodes on the floor, Sherlock looks up at John. "Enough," John says again.

Sherlock blinks at him as if asking what he's done wrong.

"How long are you going to keep punishing me? I'm back. I haven't left again, and I will never go anywhere. Ever."

"I still can't be sure," Sherlock answers.

"God, Sherlock," John practically growls. "It really, really annoys me every time you say something about it."

"It annoys me that you left, John."

"I didn't bloody leave! I came back!"

"Yes, but you went away. You left me, even just for one night. You _left_."

"Damn it, Sherlock," John sets the basket he's holding on the ground. "You can finish up. You never do it and it annoys me." John turns away from Sherlock and walks out of the isle.

Sherlock watches John leave, but instead of continuing shopping, Sherlock leaves the store. He follows a few feet behind John, but doesn't catch up.

When they get home, they both sit quietly in their chairs. Sherlock lifts his legs up onto the chair, tucking his chin into his knees.

John takes a deep breath and looks at Sherlock. "Are you going to get over this any time soon?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

John nods once, stands, and goes to his bedroom upstairs.

A few hours later, Sherlock joins him. He quietly lays in John's bed, and John pulls him close. They don't say anything for the rest of that night, but they both know it's not over.

_***Hello. Tonight's color is Red and the words are Rage, Anger, and Annoyance. Thank you! Please review! **_


	8. Chapter 8

**Purple**

Eventually, it just gets bad. About a month after John leaves, Sherlock still hasn't let it go. John stops trying to communicate and get over it, he just lets Sherlock pout and remain angry.

Sherlock doesn't know if he'll ever get over it. He wondered for a while how long it'd take John to leave him, and now that John has, Sherlock won't forget it.

One night they get into a fight. It's about nothing, really, but most of their fights aren't about anything. John doesn't want to make it better. He doesn't want to stop the fighting and move on. He wants out.

"Just get out then!" Sherlock shouts. It takes a lot for Sherlock to shout at _John _and now is one of those special moments.

John stares at him, unmoving. Sherlock doesn't move either, so John finally throws his hands up in defeat and nods, backing out of the kitchen. "Alright. I'm leaving."

Sherlock takes one step at John. He doesn't actually want him to go, he just wants him to _go. _Sherlock doesn't know how he feels. He is very confused, and at the moment very scared.

John takes one step towards Sherlock. He thinks the fight will end now, he hopes Sherlock will ask him to stay, but Sherlock steps back again and doesn't move. John takes a deep breath and nods, then turns and walks out the door.

John decides to go to a pub. He doesn't call anybody to join him, he wants to be alone, so he walks in and goes right to the bar.

"What'll you have?" the man behind the counter asks.

John orders and waits. He looks around the room. It's coming up on 7 PM on a Friday night, so there are quite a few people surrounding him. He turns his head and glances behind himself, briefly locking eyes with a beautiful woman. She flirtatiously smiles at him and he grins while turning his back.

Half an hour later she approaches him. She rests a hand on his arm and takes the seat next to him. "Waiting for someone?" she sweetly asks.

He shakes his head.

She smiles at him. "Hi, I'm Lizzie."

He smiles back. "I'm John. Can I refill your…" he motions at her drink.

"Oh, it's water," she says. "I'm the designated driver."

John glances back where she came from. "Busy night with the friends?"

She nods. "Friday nights are girls' nights."

He nods in understanding. "I'd hate to keep you from your friends."

"Oh, don't be silly!" she playfully pats his arm. "Trust me, I can already tell that you are far more interesting."

He laughs.

They talk for almost an hour. He's very interested in her, and she is interested in him. She flirts and laughs at everything he says, and he likes that. He doesn't mention Sherlock, he doesn't even think about him.

Finally Lizzie looks at him seriously. "You want to get out of here, John?"

He looks at her friends. "Won't they need their driver?"

She swats a hand at them. "They won't notice I'm gone."

He knows he shouldn't. He _knows. _John Watson was once the king of, 'You wanna get out of here?'. Nobody needs to tell John that he's making a mistake when he takes her hand and lets her lead him out of the bar.

John also knows he's drunk. Not completely, completely wasted. It's been worse. But he is drunk.

He doesn't even feel himself walking behind her. It seems like seconds before they find her car and get in.

"Where are we going to go?" he asks.

She turns to him without starting the engine. "Where do you want to go?" she seductively asks.

His eyes fall down to her breast and back to her mouth. "I…uh…" he babbles.

She leans over and kisses him. It's rough and soft at the same time. It's rough because it's so sexual; John thinks first kisses like this should be a sin. It's soft because her lips are so full and plump. Sherlock's are full and plump, John recalls, but when Sherlock puckers, his lips turn rough and rigid.

_Oh god, _John thinks as Lizzie deepens the kiss. _Sherlock._

John scrunches his eyes tightly shut and pulls away. "I can't," he says.

"What do you mean you can't?" Lizzie demands. "Are you married or something?"

"No, no," he assures her for no reason.

"Well, then," she says, taking hold of his face and pulling him towards her.

_She really is right, _he thinks. _Technically Sherlock isn't my boyfriend. Technically I can do whatever I want. _He frowns into Lizzie's mouth. _But I love him more than anything. _

John pulls away again. "No, no, I can't."

Lizzie sighs in frustration. "What the fuck?" she mutters, but John hardly hears her.

John, suddenly very aware of everything he's doing, hops out of the car. She gets out after him and stands in the car door. "Where are you going?!"

"I've just…" he points down the street and walks in that direction.

John doesn't turn back. He walks far away from the pub and feels ill. He can't believe he just did that. He feels horrible, he feels like he just cheated on Sherlock.

The thought doesn't even cross his mind to not tell Sherlock. Sherlock will figure it out sooner or later. So John walks up the stairs to their flat with a guilty look on his face.

Sherlock's sitting at the desk on John's laptop. He glances up at John, then back at the laptop. "Home early," he observes.

"I needed to come back," John says.

Sherlock looks up at John with intent this time. "John? What is it?"

John can't bring himself to look at Sherlock. He looks at the floor and shifts his feet. "I kissed someone else," he whispers at the ground.

"What? I can't hear you, John."

John looks up at Sherlock now. "I said I kissed someone else."

Sherlock's stomach drops. "Who?"

John shrugs. "Some woman I met at the bar."

Sherlock never thought of John to do something like this, but he really didn't anticipate it hurting so much that John cheat on him with a woman. "A woman?"

John nods.

"Well, was it…" Sherlock begins. "…a small kiss? Was it…more?"

"More," John recalls Lizzie's tongue down his throat. "Much more."

For someone who makes such a huge deal about human contact and simply loving one person, kissing is equivalent in Sherlock's mind as sleeping with someone else.

It's apparent on his face how much it hurts. John wants to cry, wants to beg, wants to tell him that it absolutely meant nothing, but he doesn't. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry."

Sherlock's gaze had dropped from John to the floor, but when John says he's sorry, Sherlock looks back at him. "You're sorry? That's all?"

"What else do you want me to say?" John softly says. "I never meant it," he decides to try to beg. "Please, Sherlock, believe me. I didn't mean it."

"Oh, well then it's fine," Sherlock sarcastically says as he stands from the desk.

Sherlock strides right past John towards his bedroom. "Sherlock," John follows. "I didn't mean it. I didn't leave here going looking for it, I promise. Sherlock?"

Sherlock slams his bedroom door in John's face.

John stands there for nearly ten minutes with his head against the door listening to Sherlock throw that bouncy ball back and forth against his wall.

The next day, John doesn't even try to talk to Sherlock. He knows Sherlock needs his space and he just feels horrible. He feels sick about what he did.

Sherlock leaves around noon to get some fake work done. He has nothing to do, but he wants out of the flat. He needs to get away from John. The thought of being in the same room as John makes him sick.

He goes to the park to think. It's a clear day, a beautiful day, and Sherlock hates it. He doesn't think it's fair that the world is still turning when his world is crashing. John cheated on him. He can't stop thinking those words.

_John cheated on me, _he thinks. _Most people wouldn't even consider it cheating, but it hurts like he did something more with her. Judging how he was acting, how guilty he looked, he probably did. _Sherlock doubles over his legs and gags. He nearly throws up, but he doesn't.

_I've never had this much emotional stress, _Sherlock thinks, sitting back and wiping his eyes. _Perhaps John and I aren't a rightful fit. Perhaps our relationship should terminate. Forever? For a while? _Sherlock takes a deep breath. _I can't be in the same room with him right now, _Sherlock continues in his head. _The thought of him being with someone else, no matter how they were together, disgusts me. _

Sherlock goes home after a long while. He doesn't speak to John. Doesn't even look at John. He goes straight to his room, but not before hearing, "I love you!" coming from the living room. His heart breaks.

A week later, John is growing tired of the silent treatment. He loves to hear Sherlock talk, hear him deduce, hear him insult, but even at crime scenes Sherlock is silent. Everyone glares at John and wonders what's going on, but it's not like John's just going to talk about it at a crime scene. So he doesn't.

At the two week mark, John is done. He is so tired of the silent treatment that he shouts at Sherlock while making his tea.

"I am so fucking done, Sherlock!" he shouts. "For two weeks now, you haven't spoken to me. Isn't it enough now? I'm so sorry for what I did and I can assure you that I will never, ever do it again. For the past two weeks, where have I been? Here. With you. Right next to you even though you won't speak to me. Isn't that right?"

For the first time in two weeks, Sherlock acknowledges him. He nods.

"Ok. Thank you. Can you talk to me now?"

Sherlock clears his throat and lifts his chin. "I don't know what to say."

"Anything, Sherlock. Please, God, anything."

"Very well," Sherlock grants his wish. "You've disgusted me, John. The thought of you with someone else literally makes me want to vomit."

"It wasn't like that, Sherlock. It was just kissing, I promise you."

"That doesn't change how I feel, John. When I decided to take our relationship further, I never thought you'd kiss or fuck anyone else ever again. And now you have."

John shakes his head and rubs his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. It was a huge mistake."

"Fine," Sherlock says.

John looks up. "Fine?"

"Fine. What's done is done."

John looks optimistic. "So what does that mean?"

"It means we're finished, John."

John looks sad again. "What?"

"If you want me to speak to you now, then we're done. I can't get over this with you clogging up my brain. If you leave me alone, then I can gradually work to forgive you. I suppose you can choose. We should move on, however. I'm getting bored with this childish act."

John feels sick all over. He wants to show Sherlock that he's sorry, but he knows nothing he can say will change Sherlock's mind. "Ok. I have to respect your wishes. I love you, Sherlock. I want you to feel comfortable around me again."

Sherlock nods. "I should probably delete the last few months, then."

John feels like crying. "You can't, Sherlock. Please. Not when I can't."

Sherlock nods again. "Very well, then. It was…" Sherlock thinks over a nice word. "Fun, I suppose."

John looks at him. Sherlock can see the tears in his eyes. He doesn't feel like crying, it's been long over for him.

"Moving on, then," Sherlock says before disappearing into his bedroom.

John stands in the kitchen, nearly crying, wondering what that means.

_***Oh man! Stay tuned guys. I promise it gets better. Purple's words are Loathing, Disgust, and Boredom.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Contempt**

The next day, Sherlock treats John as if nothing's happened. He bosses John around as usual, demanding tea and toast; he tells John there's a sudden case and to come if he wants, which John does; he tells John to find this and this for the case, and John, as always, does.

Sherlock very easily moves on, but John is in pain. He hurts. It hurts him that Sherlock isn't his anymore, well anything more than flatmate. He isn't even sure Sherlock's his friend anymore, which hurts him even more.

After a few days of carrying on with his 'normal' behavior, Sherlock just turns mean. He grows to be far too demanding and far too annoying, and it makes John mad.

Finally John cracks.

"John, get me tea," Sherlock demands with his deep voice.

John stands, goes to the kitchen, grabs Sherlock's favorite tea cup, and throws it at him. Yes, throws it at him. Sherlock doesn't notice until it shatters to pieces right at his feet. Then, he jumps and pulls his feet to his chair.

"John!" he shouts. "What are you thinking?!"

"I'm tired of your shit, Sherlock!" John shouts. "You're being such a dick, and I don't even know why!"

Sherlock looks at him confused. "You don't know why?"

"Well," John shifts uncomfortably. "I know _why, _but—"

"You hurt me, John," Sherlock cuts him off. "You hurt me very bad. I'm acting this way to stop myself from simply killing you," Sherlock clenches, then unclenches his fists. "I'm acting this way. I'm not sorry."

"You can't just treat me this way, Sherlock. You can't just treat me like shit because we broke up. When I said we could move on, I didn't mean this. I meant we could forget about it."

"You won't let me forget about it. I want to delete it, but you claim that is unfair. So I'm not forgetting it."

"Just stop teaching me like shit!"

"You kissed someone else, John!" Sherlock yells. "You hurt me!" he presses a finger deep into his chest, as if showing John where it hurt him.

John just breaths as Sherlock shouts. He nods when Sherlock finishes. He softly speaks, "I know, and I'm—"

"Yes, I know you're _sorry,_" Sherlock mimics, "But being sorry isn't going to take back what you did! Being sorry isn't going to take back how you've made me feel! It isn't going to take back the fact that you practically begged me to date you, you spent so much time trying to convince me that you were really going to be here, and then one day you weren't!" Sherlock stands, stepping over broken glass but barely noticing. He steps right up to John, seeing shallow tears in the smaller man's eyes. "It isn't going to take back the fact that I fell in love with you, John, and you…" Sherlock waves a hand. "You fucked that up."

John lets his tears fall. "You don't love me anymore, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looks at John's tears. He briefly notes that his blue eyes are even more beautiful with tears in them; he hates himself for thinking that.

Sherlock does love John, of course. John's been the first person he's ever loved, and will be the last whether Sherlock loves him forever or doesn't fall in love again. But he wants John to hurt, so instead of saying yes or no, he says nothing and leaves the room.

John watches Sherlock walk to his bedroom, and once he's there, John's head falls and he completely weeps. _Sherlock is right, _he thinks. _I fucked it up. _

_***Very short chapter, so there is one more tonight after this. **_


	10. Chapter 10

**Remorse**

John stands in the kitchen for half an hour just crying. He can't bring himself to move from that spot; he can't stop himself from hearing Sherlock's words.

_ "Being sorry isn't going to take back how you've made me feel!" _John hears in his head. He wipes his eyes and sniffles. He can't take back how he made Sherlock feel. He regrets his actions, all of them. He regrets making Sherlock go on a date with him. He regrets convincing Sherlock that he loves him. He regrets all of it.

John finally regains his thoughts and goes to bed. He's suddenly very tired despite the fact that it's only 7 PM, so he slips into bed without even thinking about it. He lies in the dark, only the faint light from the street streaming through the window, and falls asleep to the memory of Sherlock's arms around him.

Somewhere in his dreams, John hears the front door open and close. He opens his eyes and checks the clock; it's midnight.

Sherlock doesn't return home until 2 PM the next afternoon, while John's at work. He didn't sleep the night before, not that he needed it, but he does feel very tired. Sherlock changes into his usual pajamas and sits on the couch to check his emails.

Two hours later, John returns home. He silently pads up the stairs and when he opens the door, he nearly jumps at the site of Sherlock on the sofa.

"Did I startle you?" Sherlock asks.

John nods, stepping further into the living room.

"I do still live here, you know," Sherlock says, redirecting his attention to his emails.

John stands next to the sofa and bites his lip, at a loss of words.

Sherlock looks at John impatiently. "Yes?"

"I…" John tries. "I just…"

"Do you have something to say or are you trying to waste my time?"

John blinks at him. Anger rises in John that he tries to suppress.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "If you're going to tell me you're sorry again, save it. At least choose different verbs."

"Can I at least try to tell you how sorry I am today?" John asks through gritted teeth.

"Find a thesaurus first. There's one in my bedroom."

John takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes. "You know what, Sherlock? Fine," John says. "Be angry. Never be with me again, that's fine. I can absolutely promise you that I'd never, ever do anything stupid again. I completely regret what I did. And yes, I am sorry. But you need to stop treating me like this, Sherlock. Whether we're together romantically or not, we're still meant to be together. I know you've never believed that, even when Mrs. Hudson said it a few years ago, but we're meant to at least be friends, Sherlock. Fate brought us together, and I believe that. So please, be my friend."

Sherlock looks at John and listens to everything he says. _John's right_, Sherlock thinks. "I don't trust you, John. We're not a rightful fit romantically. I can't be with someone I don't trust."

"I'm not asking you to anymore, Sherlock. I just want to be able to go on cases and have you consult me for my opinion rather than boss me around as payback for hurting you in our personal life."

Sherlock nods. "You are my friend, John. You're all I have."

"I know. And I'm sorry that the only person you can count on let you down. I'm saying that as your friend, not as your…" John waves a hand trying to dismiss his confusion. "Your ex…whatever. I'm genuinely sorry because being hurt sucks. The arse who hurt you deserves to miss you."

Sherlock half smiles. "Thank you," he says.

John nods and turns to head upstairs. He gets halfway up the stairs when he hears Sherlock shout, "Friends make other friends tea!"

John, really still apologizing to Sherlock, smiles and turns back down the stairs. "Wanker," he mutters as he passes Sherlock on the way to the kitchen.

_***So much angst? One more chapter. **_


	11. Chapter 11

**Disapproval**

For days, Sherlock only thinks about John. He thinks about being nicer and more considerate to John. He thinks about being John's friend. He thinks about asking John for help if he needs it. And he thinks about what John did.

John says he's sorry pretty much every day in different ways. He does whatever Sherlock needs, he makes Sherlock dinner even though Sherlock won't eat it. it's very much like when John initially screwed up, only this time Sherlock says thank you and John smiles.

Their routine of friendship falls quickly back into place, but it hurts for both of them. It hurts John that he can't just kiss Sherlock whenever he wants, and it hurts Sherlock that he doesn't really want John to do that. He feels so much anger towards John still.

Sherlock tries his best to push the anger away and not take it out on John. He wants to be John's friend, but at times it is difficult because of the anger. When he feels especially angry, he locks himself in his bedroom and thinks about why he's angry.

_John betrayed me, _he thinks. _John kissed someone else. You weren't enough for John. John found someone else. You don't want John to want someone else, you want John to want you. _Sherlock thinks that over a minute. _John doesn't want anyone else. John does want you. John wants anything to do with you, even just to be your friend. John wants to sit here and make you tea and buy you dinner and wash your clothes, even though you don't ask him to. (Ok, _Sherlock thinks further into his head, _you ask him for the tea and the laundry. But the dinner is unnecessary for many reasons). _Sherlock grabs his bouncy ball and begins to throw it against the wall.

John hears the faint sounds of the bouncy ball hitting the wall and wonders what Sherlock is thinking about. He throws the ball when he needs to think very hard, John knows that, so he decides to so what makes him think the most: take a shower. He makes the water hot and steps under, standing for a few minutes before grabbing Sherlock's body wash and using it.

The scent of Sherlock's body wash makes him think harder. _I want Sherlock to be happy, _he thinks. _I want him to be comfortable with me, even if he's not _with_ me. But I do want him. _John absent mindedly rubs the body wash over his cock. _I wonder what he's thinking about. How much he hates me, probably. How much he wants me to leave him alone. How much he doesn't care about me. _John pouts and continues to shower.

Meanwhile, Sherlock bounces the ball against the wall and continues to think. _I don't like what John did, _Sherlock thinks. _But many people in relationships get over far worse. Married couples get past intercourse cheating. John and I aren't married, we weren't even officially…boyfriends…and all he did was kiss someone. _Sherlock pauses the ball throwing when he hears the shower turn on. He begins to throw it again. _John must need to think, too. _Sherlock falls back onto the floor and stares at the ceiling. "Why must this be so difficult?" he asks the ceiling.

John continues to wash himself for far too long. He doesn't even notice he's still rubbing Sherlock's body wash on himself until he reaches for his cock again and finds it erect and wanting his attention. He looks down at himself. "Fuck," he says out loud. "I want him so bad."

John's thoughts trail to the person he wants so bad in the way he wants him. It's been eternity, it feels, since John's had sex. He hasn't even wanted to masturbate, the desire for one person hurting him so badly that he didn't want even himself.

But now, equipped with Sherlock's body wash and the tiniest bit of hope, he thinks about Sherlock's body. His long, sleek body, full of curves and angles everywhere. But John thinks about how well all of Sherlock's odd features fit him and make him beautiful. Nobody looks like Sherlock, _nobody, _and the uniqueness makes him incredibly sexy. When they were together, going out in public with Sherlock meant people looking at someone who was exclusively _his, _and John gloating to himself, "Yes, I get to fuck him and you don't!"

John looks down at the hand on his erection as if shocked it's there. He wishes it was Sherlock's hand. His thoughts trail back to a time months ago when Sherlock surprised him in the shower and finished him off right there under the spray, never saying anything, never making any noise, just stroking roughly and with care. The memory makes John tightly close his eyes and bite his lip.

Sherlock's thoughts begin to trail off to nothingness, but after a while he becomes aware that John's been in the shower an awfully long time. _I've stopped thinking about all of this, surely John must be, too. What could he possibly be—_Sherlock stops his wondering and realizes what John's doing in there. His curiosity gets the best of him, making him rise from the floor and go to the bathroom. He stands outside the door with his ear at the wood.

For a moment all Sherlock can hear is the spray of the shower, but once he concentrates harder he hears faint, "Sherlock, Sherlock…mmm…" over and over. He smiles and looks at the door as if he can see John through it. He wishes he could. He presses his ear to the barrier once more and just listens to John.

When John comes, he tries his best to stifle his moans, but he isn't very successful. Confident that Sherlock's in his room or elsewhere, John releases a shameless, "_Sherrrrlock_!" as he spills all over his hand. Very lightheaded, John washes his hand, quickly washes his body again, and turns the spray off.

Sherlock's thoughts are lost on John's arousal so much that he doesn't even open his eyes until he hears the shower turn off. Then, he jerks himself back and stands against the opposite wall, cheeks flushed and erection trying to get out of his trousers. Sherlock shakes his head and sweeps hair out of his face as he decides to stand and wait for John to exit the restroom. _I want him, _is all Sherlock thinks.

By the time John exits the restroom (he decides to take his time), Sherlock's erection is gone but his desire has not diminished. John opens the door and sees Sherlock standing there with dark eyes.

"Sher—" he manages to get out before Sherlock invades his space.

Sherlock's not sure what he wants to do before he crowds way into John's personal space. He takes a deep breath through his nose, smelling his own body wash on John. "You used my soap," he says.

John nods. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"You hate that soap."

"I hate it when we're in public and I'm reminded of…" John looks away from Sherlock's eyes before he says, "Of smelling and touching and tasting and biting—"

John doesn't finish the thought before Sherlock grabs his face and kisses him. John's so surprised that he doesn't kiss Sherlock back, he only follows Sherlock's face as he pulls away. He lets out a whimper as Sherlock's face is far away from his again.

With his hands still on his face, Sherlock stares at him hard. "I still do not approve of what you did," he says.

John opens his eyes. "I know. And I'm still so, so sorry."

"I'm still very hurt and I don't know when I won't be again."

John nods. "Of course."

"I still don't forgive you for what you did," he adds.

"I wouldn't either," John says.

Sherlock slowly leans down to quickly and lightly press his lips to John's. "But," he says, pulling away. He shifts his head to the left rather than right this time. He's not sure why. He leans and kisses John again. "I want you," pulling away again. This time he lines his face up straight to John, their noses pressing right to each other. Instead of a kiss, he runs his bottom teeth over John's bottom lip, then trails the teeth marks with the tip of his tongue. John shutters and moans. "So bad," Sherlock adds.

Despite the fact that he just had an orgasm in the shower, John knows there was no possible way Sherlock doing that to him could not get him hard. He tries to push his body against Sherlock to relieve some pressure, but Sherlock holds him in place.

"We take it slow," Sherlock says. "We start over."

John nods, completely agreeing, if not just a bit disappointed. "Anything you want," he says. "I promise."

Sherlock nods. "Thank you."

"I will never hurt you again," John says. "I will never do anything with anyone—"

Sherlock shakes his head to make John stop talking. "Don't talk about it again. Do not apologize. I don't want to think about it again."

John vigorously nods. "Ok."

Sherlock kisses John again. It begins small and delicate, but it quickly turns frantic and needy. Tongues battle for dominance as each man wants to break the other to pieces.

John strokes Sherlock's back, eventually resting his hands on Sherlock's hips and attempting to pull the taller man closer to him. John wants to be pushed against the wall and wants Sherlock to do whatever he wants to him.

Sherlock pulls his mouth off John and rests his forehead against John's. He feels John's hands shift south to caress his trouser covered arse.

"I've missed you so much," John murmurs.

Sherlock nods. "I did too."

John kisses Sherlock again, just once. "Let's go to bed," he pleads.

Sherlock shakes his head. "I said we need to take it slow."

John chuckles. "We can do it slowly," he says.

Sherlock smiles and chuckles, too. He shakes his head, though. "I mean it, John. Slow." He pulls away from John and stands in front of him.

John stands up straight against the wall and wipes his lips. He nods. "I can respect that, Sherlock. I can wait."

Sherlock nods, too. "Good." He takes a deep breath. "Well…" he says, never very good at the next step.

John shifts and clears his throat, also bad at this. "Well, uh," he says, "I've got an early morning, so I should…" he gestures away from them, indicating going to bed.

Sherlock nods. "Yes, I should try to rest as well."

"Yes, you should."

Sherlock looks at John. "Well, goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," John says, stepping away from the wall and walking down the hall.

Sherlock watches him disappear around the corner and waits for the living room lights to go off before he disappears into his own room.

They both lie in bed and fall asleep smiling.

_***Final update of the evening. Remember to check out chapter 9 and 10 as well in case you missed that I updated those the same night I put this chapter up. **_


	12. Chapter 12

**Awe**

Nothing happens after the night they kiss other than a few knowing glances. When they wake the next morning, they both feel refreshed and happy. John whistles while he makes breakfast and Sherlock happily eats it, which makes John even more happy.

After breakfast, they get a call from Lestrade letting them know that he has a case for them. Sherlock gets ready, but John stays behind and cleans up the kitchen.

"Aren't you coming, John?" Sherlock asks.

"Do…you want me to?" John asks.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well," John looks around awkwardly. "Because of what happened last night?"

"Last night has nothing to do with work, John. You are coming with me."

Sherlock doesn't even give John the chance to decline, he only grabs John's coat and tosses it to him.

The cab ride is silent. Sherlock is mentally preparing himself for whatever is waiting for them, and John just watches London go by like he usually does. However, this time John thinks about last night.

_Last night was great, _John thinks. _Last night was…perfect. But what does that mean? What do I do now?_

They arrive at the scene and Sherlock dashes around deducing everyone and everything. This time is different though, John notes. This time Sherlock only says the 'nice' deductions. Well, he isn't as mean as he usually is.

"The burn on your thumb shows me you burnt your toast this morning," he says to one officer. "But that's ok, you stopped for a donut."

To another, he says, "Your shirt is very wrinkled, must have been a good date last night." Everyone wonders how he figured that out, but later he tells John that he noticed a love bite on the man's collar bone when he scratched his neck.

Finally, Sherlock makes it to the body and checks it out while John sits back and watches, as usually. Sometimes John wonders why he even comes, but today he smiles because Sherlock is wearing a right black shirt. John likes when Sherlock wears black, and he really likes Sherlock's tight shirts.

Sherlock calls John over after a while and asks John a few medical questions. When he's finished, Sherlock fires away everything he sees. It's quick and precise and accurate. "This man is forty-years old with a wife who cheats on him. Rough play is seen, easy, and these fingerprints are a man's fingerprints. He had a cheating wife and was killed by someone who didn't know what he was doing, so all signs point to the wife's lover."

"Brilliant," John says as usual.

"Hardly. And another thing—" Sherlock continues talking while John watches.

"Absolutely amazing," John says.

"Yes, well. It's very simple once you know what rough play looks like and know all the facts."

"Only you could know all the facts," John says.

Sherlock grins at him while others bustle around him collecting evidence.

Without thinking about anything other than Sherlock grinning at him, John mutters, "I love you."

Sherlock instantly stops smiling and quickly walks to Lestrade. John frowns and follows, but right as he walks up to Sherlock and Lestrade, Sherlock walks away towards the main road.

John catches him just on time to get into Sherlock's cab. "You want to tell me what's going on?" he asks as they drive away.

"Don't do this, John," Sherlock angry snaps. "When I said I want things to be slow, I meant it. I don't need you clouding up my brain."

"It shouldn't be a bad thing to know that I love you when we _are _trying to resume our relationship."

"But I want to start over, John. I want to say I love you and it be different from before."

"How will it be different?"

"I don't know. But I'm not ready to say it back."

"You don't have to, Sherlock. I felt like saying it so I did. You don't have to say it until you mean it."

Sherlock turns to John to say that he will always mean it, that if he said it now he'd mean it, but the cab stops and John gets out. Sherlock pays the driver and follows John upstairs.

John decides to take a nap as soon as they get home, so he locks himself in his room. He doesn't mean to shun Sherlock, he just wants peace and quiet. When he wakes he feels refreshed. He makes Sherlock dinner at 4 and decides around 6 that he needs a drink.

"I'm going out for a drink," John announces as he walks downstairs with his shoes in hand.

"With who?" Sherlock questions, not looking away from his laptop.

John shrugs. "Thought I'd call Greg. Stamford, maybe." John lowers his voice to speak only to himself, "Maybe Sarah's free."

Sherlock hears John and pouts. John looks up at him as he does so.

"What?" John asks.

Sherlock doesn't answer.

"Do you not want me to go out?"

"It's not that. I don't want you to go out with Sarah."

"How did you hear that?"

"You said it out loud."

"To mys— nevermind. Why don't you want me to go out with Sarah?"

Sherlock pouts more, if that's possible.

"Are you jealous?" John asks.

"Of course not."

"Then why can't I go out with my boss-slash-friend?"

"I never said you can't."

John sighs and rubs his face. "Can you please stop being so cryptic? What do you want me to do?"

Sherlock shrugs.

John groans. "Work with me here, Sherlock. Do you want me to stay home?"

"Do as you please."

"Sherlock!" John shouts. "Do you want me to or not? Do you want me to stay here with you?"

Sherlock nods.

"Ok. Geez. Was that so hard?"

Sherlock nods.

"Why was that so hard?"

"Because I…"

"Because what?"

"I just…I don't want you to think anything more of it! I don't want you to think I want anything more just because I want you to stay here. I just don't want you to go out with them, that's all. I don't want you to spend time with anyone else. But I don't want you to think more into that."

John's brows furrow. He is very confused and it is very obvious. "Ok. You don't want me to go out with anyone else. And you don't want me to think more into that?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you want me to think more into that?"

Sherlock sighs as if John should know. "Because I don't want you to think I'm ready to move forward, because I'm not. I fear that I can only move forward when I begin to forgive you for what you did."

"I won't think more of it, Sherlock. You can tell me if you want me to stay here with you, and I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. I promise."

Sherlock nods. "Do you accept that I still don't forgive you?"

John rolls his eyes. "Yes, Sherlock. I do. Thank you for reminding me."

"No need to be sarcastic, John. I am simply trying to get everything straight."

John sighs. "Ok. I'm sorry. We're clear."

Sherlock nods in agreement.

"So…" John begins. "Should I stay here?"

Sherlock nods.

"Should I…sit by you?"

Sherlock briefly glances at him and back at his laptop. He shakes his head.

"So, I'll sit here."

Sherlock nods.

John sits patiently for twenty seconds, then grows bored. "Would you like some tea?"

Sherlock nods.

John gets up to get Sherlock's tea.

"Thank you," Sherlock says when John hands him a mug.

"You're welcome," John says. "I just used the last of the milk, is it ok if I go to the shop?"

Sherlock nods.

"Great," John says, going to the door. "Anything else?"

"Marshmallows," Sherlock answers.

John nods, opening the door. He steps out, then sticks his head back in the door. "I love you," he tells Sherlock.

Sherlock doesn't look at him, but he does shyly smile. John sees and smiles all the way to the shop.


	13. Chapter 13

**Submission**

Weeks pass with nothing. John doesn't push Sherlock and Sherlock takes his time. Sherlock begins to feel as though they rushed things the first time, so this time he slows everything way down and enjoys it.

Two weeks after they kiss, they go on a date. It's Sherlock's idea, and after much coaxing, he calls it a date.

"Why do we have to call it anything?" Sherlock asks. "Why can't we just say that we are two close friends having a meal together?"

"Because we are two _close _friends having a meal together," John replies. "Look, if you want to ask me out, just do it."

"I'm not asking you out."

John gives him a, 'you're-not-fooling-me' look.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I'm taking things slow."

"We can go on a date and still take things slow."

"Really?" Sherlock questions. "If I call it a date, you won't expect sex?"

"I never expect sex."

Sherlock gives him a, 'you're-not-fooling-me' look.

John rolls _his_ eyes. "I'm not sixteen years old, Sherlock. I do have control over my own body."

Sherlock sighs. "Fine. If you want to call it a date, you can."

"Do _you _want to call it a date?"

Sherlock thinks that over. He does want it to be a date, but he doesn't want John to expect more. But he does trust John. Finally he nods.

"Great," John says, smiling. "Seven?"

Sherlock nods again.

John smiles. "Perfect."

At seven they go to dinner. They find a nice quiet place to eat and take a table near the back. It's quite romantic, really. They both enjoy it. They find things to talk about the whole time, their food is amazing, and of course they just love being together.

"I've enjoyed this," Sherlock states on their way home.

"You sound surprised."

"I am surprised. I didn't know how I'd feel about it, but I like it."

John nods. "Good, then. I've had a good time, too."

Three days later they go on another date, and two after that they have another. After a few dates, it's a month after their last kiss and nothing has happened.

But John is patient, because John loves Sherlock. And he will wait.

One night John decides he wants to pick the date activities, so they go to a pub to watch a football match. Sherlock doesn't want to, saying it's not a date if it's something he'd do with any of his mates, but John wants to see this match. After much persuasion, Sherlock agrees to accompany him, so John goes to his regular place.

They sit and order a drink; John has a beer and Sherlock has water. The match starts and many people gather around the bar, where the televisions are, and it gets loud quickly.

Sherlock hates this because he isn't spending time with John. He pouts while he sips his water and John watches the match. Finally John notices him pouting and asks him what is wrong.

"You're too busy with the television to talk to me," Sherlock admits. "This is a date, John."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I didn't realize that would upset you. But I really, really want to see this match, so can we just sit here and I'll do anything you want tomorrow?"

"Even go to the museum with me?"

"Anything."

Sherlock smiles and lets John enjoy the match.

Around halftime, John gets up to use the restroom, and Sherlock gets to thinking. He wants to know how serious John is and wants to know if John would cheat on him again. He obviously can't just ask John, because John would say he wouldn't hurt Sherlock again. Sherlock wants proof.

Sherlock realizes John's had quite a few drinks, so he decides to test his theory. He finds a young, beautiful woman in the pub and talks to her.

Ok. He more persuades her. "I'll give you fifty pounds to flirt with my boyfriend," Sherlock comes out with it once he approaches her.

She eyes him curiously. "Why?"

"I want to know what he'd do. You're young and beautiful, and he is partial to things young and beautiful."

She nods in understanding. "What do I have to do?"

_This is easier than I thought, _Sherlock thinks. "Just flirt with him. Talk to him. Laugh. Touch him, but not too much. Just his arm or something."

She nods in understanding. "Seventy pounds."

He sighs. "Fine." He fishes the cash out of his pocket and points to John across the room. "I'll be over here. Don't go out of my site."

She makes her way across the room to John. Once there, she touches his arm to get his attention and smiles.

"Is this seat taken?" she asks.

John looks around. "My, uh, friend was with me, but I don't know where he went."

"That tall fellow?" she asks. "He stepped out for a bit."

"You saw him leave?"

She nods.

John sighs. "Perfect."

"Sorry," she says with a cheery smile.

He half smiles back. "It's ok. I'll find him."

There's a silence so she sips her drink.

"What are you drinking?" John asks.

"Apple martini. It's a delight."

"Sounds good, though I don't much like apples."

She giggles. "I didn't even introduce myself," she says. "My name is Hannah."

"Hi Hannah, my name is John." He doesn't offer her a hand to shake.

"What do you do, John?"

"I'm a doctor."

"That's great!" she exclaims, then sips her drink.

He nods. "It is alright."

"So…" she wastes no time. "What are your plans for the rest of the evening?"

"Hopefully I'll find my friend and head home with him."

"_With _him?" she asks, even though she took note of Sherlock calling John his boyfriend.

"We live together," John explains.

"Oh. Well," she flirtatiously smiles. "Do you think he'd mind if you…took someone home?"

John nearly chokes on the spit in his mouth. "Well, I don't think he'd like it very much."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't like company."

She smiles again. "I wouldn't be there to visit him." She places a hand on his arm.

"Look, I can't, ok?"

She frowns. "Can't what?"

"I can't do anything with you, I'm sorry. I'm involved with someone else?"

"With your friend?"

John looks surprised. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugs. "Just a question."

"Oh. Well. Yes, with him."

She nods in understanding. "Well, it was nice talking to you," she says.

"Thanks, you too."

She gets off the stool and heads to the back of the pub where she met Sherlock. Sherlock pulls her into the booth he's in.

"Well?" Sherlock asks.

"He was not interested in me," she explains.

"How do you know?"

"He didn't ask my name, first of all. He didn't shake my hand when I introduced myself. He didn't offer to get me a drink when I finished mine. He didn't ask me my profession when I asked his. And he didn't want anything to do with me. He told me he was involved with you."

Sherlock smiles. "Excellent."

She smiles at Sherlock. "Looks like you've got a good man on your hands," she says, exiting the booth.

"Yes," Sherlock mutters. "I do."

Sherlock goes back to John and takes his seat again.

John warmly smiles as Sherlock sits. "Where'd you run off to?"

"Had to take a call from Mycroft."

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes. Just a few final details about my mother's belongings that needed time to disperse." It wasn't a complete lie, he and Mycroft had discussed such things earlier that day.

"Ahh," John says. "A girl came up and tried to go home with me," John bluntly states.

"Is that so?" Sherlock questions.

"I obviously turned her down," John states.

"Well, that pleases me."

John smiles. "Good."

On the walk home, Sherlock thinks over the facts. _John was not interested in Hannah. John told Hannah he is involved with someone else. With me, to put a more fine point on it. He told me that Hannah tried to take him home. Things are definitely looking up. _

They get into their living room and take off coats and shoes. While John's got his back to Sherlock taking his shoe off, Sherlock steps behind him and wraps his own arms around John's back.

John chuckles. "Hey," he places a hand on Sherlock's, standing and pushing himself against Sherlock. "What are you doing?"

"Just hugging you," Sherlock answers.

"Well let me turn around and receive a proper hug."

Sherlock pulls back and lets John turn around, then resumes his position around John. They hug for a minute, then Sherlock asks, "John?"

"Mmmm?"

Sherlock gulps. "Will you…" he pauses.

"What?"

"Will you sleep with me tonight?"

John smiles against Sherlock's neck. "Of course."

Sherlock lifts his face off John's forehead and takes John's face in one hand. He leans down and kisses John, just once, and very lightly. He rests his forehead against John's and smiles.

Right after, they go to bed. They both sleep very well and wake refreshed.

The sun is shining through the window and they're wrapped around each other under Sherlock's duvet.

"I missed this," John says, kissing Sherlock's nose.

"As did I."

John kisses Sherlock's lips and frowns. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I'm sorry for messing it all up. I'm sorry for—"

Sherlock presses a finger to John's lips. "I forgive you, John."

John's eyes grow wide. "You do?"

"Yes. I forgive you."

John smiles wide. "That's amazing, Sherlock! Thank you! I'm so happy!" he hugs Sherlock tight.

Sherlock smiles. "I'm happy, too. No problems this time, ok?"

John vigorously nods. "Of course. Everything will be perfect this time, I promise." John pulls his face out of Sherlock's neck and kisses him. "I love you so much," he says when he pulls away.

"I love you, too John." Sherlock says, bashfully.

"Why are you being bashful?" John questions.

Sherlock smiles. "I'm just happy."

"Well, good," John says. "I am, too."


	14. Chapter 14

_**(A/N: Warning. This chapter needs a warning in itself because it's pretty much sex pretty much everywhere.)**_

**Love**

"Jeeesus, John—" he pants; he moans; he writhes underneath the man above him. His beautiful body arches at each and every touch. "Right there…" Usually it's John who makes all the noise, but right now it's just for Sherlock. Unfortunately, Sherlock never mastered masturbation, so for the past few months his hormones have shut down, and as of yesterday they've been awake and thriving.

It's been two weeks since he forgave John, and it's been seventeen hours since John gave him a hickey on his neck in the middle of the sitting room. The two men were propped against each other in an awkward position, John on his toes and Sherlock squatting so they were perfectly pressed against each other, one man's lips sucking on the pulse point of the other's neck, and the owner of said glorious neck dry humping his boyfriend through two pairs of pants and two pairs of jeans.

An awkward position unlike the one they're in now: Sherlock on his back with John more or less next to/on top of him, one hand wrapped around Sherlock's throbbing cock and the other under the detective, fingers wriggling as best they can in and out of consulting arse.

After a while, Sherlock gave up letting John do all the work like he promised John he could, and finally Sherlock's just dug his heels into the bed and has begun fucking John's fist.

"Ughhhh—" John moans around one of Sherlock's nipples. "Please, let me—" John relays what he's trying to ask by rubbing his hard cock against Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock's breathing calms and he looks at John. John's pupils are absolutely blown, Sherlock can see himself in them. John's lips are puffy and red from vigorous sucking to any part of Sherlock his lips can reach. John's cock is actually aching because of the want for Sherlock.

"Please, Sherlock—" John tries again, this time with no more luck than last.

Sherlock finally nods. He wants it as bad as John does, and after months of waiting he wants his third orgasm in seventeen hours to be the best one yet. Sherlock pulls his hand off John's back and throws his arms over his head, spreading his legs more and thrusting his legs up at nothing, John's hand long since disappeared to find the lube bottle.

"Oh god—" John babbles, watching the show. He licks his lips as he finally locates the lube and pours it into his hand.

"Fill me, John," Sherlock moans, "Oooooooh, yes—"

John rubs the lube onto his cock and moves to kneel between Sherlock's wide spread legs. "Are you ready?" John asks.

Sherlock throws his head back, revealing that long neck, and moans. "Fuck me, John, fuck me like you've wanted to for the past few months."

"I've been daydreaming about you far too long to only make it one time of fucking you the way I've wanted for the past few months." John absolutely knows that didn't make any sense, but tomorrow when he decides to fuck Sherlock in the kitchen, it'll make perfect sense.

John presses three fingers into Sherlock, letting Sherlock adjust compared to the two he had in the awkward position before. He leans over the man stretching below him and kisses Sherlock's stomach.

"God, I've missed you…" John mutters as he licks one of Sherlock's nipples, then the other.

Sherlock grabs John's head and holds John to his chest. "Show me," Sherlock replies, nearly yelping as he feels John bite his left nipple.

John grins as he pulls off Sherlock. "Are you ok?" he asks.

"Stop asking if I'm ready or if I'm ok. If I weren't I'd let you know," Sherlock snaps. "Just do it. Do _me_."

John takes a deep breath. He pulls Sherlock's legs over his shoulders, pulling Sherlock nearly onto his lap. He kisses Sherlock's ankle. "I love you," he says.

"I love you, John," Sherlock whispers.

John smiles and reaches under one of Sherlock's legs to take hold of his cock. He presses the tip into Sherlock's hole, the heat and instant feeling making his breath hitch.

"Good…" John mutters, pulling the head of his cock out and pushing it back in almost instantly.

"More, John!" Sherlock begs.

"I need to take my time, love," John ensures him.

John takes Sherlock's demand, however, and pushes in so he's past the tight ring of muscle at Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock takes hold of the sheets above his head and moans. John smiles down at Sherlock as he pulls out, then pushes back in once more, this time pushing his cock into Sherlock all the way.

"Yes, yes!" Sherlock shouts.

"Not too loud," John says. "It's eight A.M., I'm sure Mrs. Hudson is home."

"Hardly my concern right now," Sherlock retorts, then tries to move his hips and clench around John.

"No, no," John begs this time. "Not yet, love. Hang on."

Sherlock stops moving, but he squeezes the sheets tighter and closes his eyes.

John takes hold of Sherlock's hips and pulls Sherlock up higher so Sherlock's hips aren't on the bed at all. John, sitting on his heels, spreads his legs to lower himself and to be able to get a firmer rut going. Once he's positioned the way he wants and he's sure Sherlock is adjusted, John pulls his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, this time hitting Sherlock's prostate perfectly.

"Yes, John, yes!" Sherlock shouts, "Perfect! Right there!"

"God Sherlock, yes…" John pants as he does it again and again.

"Harder, please so much harder!" Sherlock shouts before beginning his song of moans and pants. "Oooh, yeeees…Jooohn….Oooooh!"

John scrunches his eyes shut and bites his lip, fearing that he, too, would wake the neighborhood. His pace does not let up, however, and he pounds into Sherlock as deep and as hard as he can.

Feeling fingers brush against the base of his cock as he pulls out, John opens his eyes and looks down between Sherlock's legs. The site is unbelievably sexy. What he sees is Sherlock cupping and kneading his own balls, squirming at his own touch.

"Ooooh, god…" John groans. "Sherlock, I love you. Fuck," John's eyes don't leave his boyfriend's groin as Sherlock's long fingers wrap around his cock. "I love you so much….ooooh…" John lets out a loud moan as Sherlock begins to beat himself off without rhythm.

John knows that he himself wants it harder and faster, so he takes hold of the backs of Sherlock's knees and pushes the man's long legs up towards his chest. John stands on his knees off his heels, and holding Sherlock's legs up, he pounds dead on into the man with a harder and faster pace. John himself can't count his own thrusts or the strokes of Sherlock's hand.

"Gonna…" John mutters between grunts. "Jesus Christ, I'm gonna…"

Sherlock gives himself one hard tug and begins to come on his stomach. He clenches around John, and right before John's eyes close he sees that Sherlock's toes are curling. "Oh, oh! John!" Sherlock shouts as he pulses around John and his body tightens with pleasure.

John buries himself balls deep inside his lover and comes deep and hard. He shouts, "Fuck, Sherlock, fuck! I love you!" as his cock pulses inside Sherlock, and his orgasm seems to last forever.

Finally, John feels Sherlock's body soften and he opens his eyes. He delicately lowers Sherlock's legs back onto the bed pulls out, grimacing at the stickiness on himself and in Sherlock. John leans down and places a kiss to Sherlock's shaking knee before disappearing from the bed for a cloth.

When John comes back, Sherlock's staring at him with a completely blissful face. "You look radiant," he says to John.

John wipes his damp forehead with the back of his arm. "I believe the word you're looking for is sweaty."

"Of course you look sweaty," Sherlock says. "The task you've just completely is not an easy one. Your legs must be burning."

"I am in rather good shape, you know," John mutters as he takes the cloth to Sherlock.

"Oh, I know," Sherlock says, letting John clean him up.

John tosses the cloth to the floor and kneels on the bed above Sherlock. "You look beautiful," John mutters as he looks at Sherlock; his hair disheveled, his eye lids heavy, his lips pink and plump, his pale skin glowing with perspiration. John leans down and kisses Sherlock's lips. "So fucking beautiful."

Sherlock smiles as John kisses him. "Same for you, John," he says, wrapping his arms around John's neck and pulling John back on top of him.

John continues to smile as Sherlock pulls him down. He gives Sherlock three more kisses before shimmying down Sherlock's body and resting his head on Sherlock's chest.

"What have we got on today, love?" John asks, absentmindedly counting Sherlock's heart beats.

"Nothing yet, though I did hear a few police cars pass by here a short while ago. Hopefully we'll have something soon," he says.

John lifts his head and rests his chin on Sherlock's chest. "You were listening for police cars while my cock was in you?"

"Mmmm," Sherlock replies, far too content to attempt a retort. "Is that a problem?"

John scowls. "It's a bit insulting."

Sherlock grins and looks down at John. "It's not like I made you stop so we could follow them."

John continues to scowl. "Still. It'd be nice to have your full attention every once in a while."

"You have my full attention now. How do you plan to use it?"

John kisses Sherlock's chest, then slides back up his body, kissing his collar bone, neck, jaw, and finally lips. John grins and rubs his nose against Sherlock's. "You'd like to know how I am going to use your full attention?" John kisses Sherlock, leaving no time for the small kisses and instead instantly dipping his tongue into Sherlock's mouth.

Shocked but never one to disappoint, Sherlock's tongue joins John's within seconds. After a minute, Sherlock pulls away to both breath and ask, "How?" Then, Sherlock shoves his fingers into John's hair and pulls John back down, kissing him once again.

This time, their kiss is hungry and frantic, their tongues swirling together as if tying to become one. John's hands find the back of Sherlock's head and he slowly moans around Sherlock's tongue.

Realizing that he can't get an erection this quickly after losing the last one, and trying very hard to make his goal for the morning, John breaks away panting. "Breakfast," he whispers against Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock, still wanting to be kissing John, gets very confused very quickly. "What?"

John suddenly stands from the bed and looks around the floor to locate his pants. "It's time for breakfast," he says, pleased that he's confused the great detective.

Sherlock looks more disappointed than he wants to. "Are you serious?"

John locates his pants and slips them on before returning to the bed and giving Sherlock one kiss on the cheek. "Very serious," he says before turning around and leaving the room.

Knowing there is no way out of breakfast, Sherlock groans and falls against the bed.

When he smells bacon in coming from the kitchen, Sherlock decides to join John. He finds his pants in the pile of clothes on the floor and walks to the kitchen while pulling them on. He loses his balance and accidentally falls into the wall, making John turn around.

"Hello, beautiful," John flirts, taking in Sherlock pulling his pants over his recently used, yet semi-erect cock.

"No looking if you're not going to care about how 'beautiful' I am."

John smiles at Sherlock and pushes the bacon around the pan. "You are beautiful." John kisses Sherlock's shoulder as Sherlock stands against the counter top right next to the stove. John takes his free arm and wraps it around Sherlock's waist. "Are you having a good morning?" John asks.

Sherlock nods. "It has proven to be quite eventful. I'm glad I went to bed last night."

"As am I," John agrees. "What were you doing last night anyway?"

"Conducting an experiment involving the mold under the sink," Sherlock casually replies.

John's face grows worried. "There's mold under the sink?"

Sherlock shrugs, then jumps up to sit on the counter top. "Not anymore."

John half smiles. "You're mad, you know that?" Then he swats Sherlock's leg. "Arse off the counter. My food goes here."

Sherlock grins. "Do not pretend like it bothers you."

John smiles and sets his spatchula next to the stove, then moves to stand between Sherlock's legs. He's not quite tall enough for them to be evenly placed, so Sherlock dips his head and catches John's lips with his own. Smiling into the kiss, John lets Sherlock pick up where they left off in bed.

Their kisses become heated once again and John runs his hands down Sherlock's body. He reaches Sherlock's soft pants and rubs Sherlock's thighs where his pants touch.

John soon descends, kissing familiar parts of Sherlock's body: jaw, neck, chest, stomach. Sherlock's hands find the back of John's head, and when he feels John tug on his pants, he plants his palms in the counter and lifts his hips up long enough for John to pull his pants to his thighs.

John licks his lips as Sherlock's cock springs free. "So eager to go again," John says.

"I'm making up for lost time," Sherlock replies, grabbing the back of John's head once again.

John presses a kiss to the head of Sherlock's cock, then once again kisses the man's stomach and chest. "Can I suck you off, Sherlock?" John asks between kisses.

Sherlock sighs happily. "Yes."

John kisses Sherlock's thigh one last time, then takes the head of Sherlock's cock into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the tip and he tongues the slit, making Sherlock bite his lip and spread his legs wider.

Soon John grows eager himself and takes Sherlock as deep into his mouth as he can go. John doesn't have much of a sensitive gag reflex, but he doesn't take more of Sherlock than he can, letting his hand service the base of Sherlock's cock. He quickly gets the rhythm he wants and Sherlock pants and gasps while pulling John's short hairs.

"John…ooooh John…" Sherlock babbles as John's head bobs up and down in his lap. A shallow swipe of teeth on the bottom of his cock makes Sherlock inhale deep and throw his head back, knocking his head on the cabinets behind him. He inhales again at the sting of his head, this time catching a whiff of something burning. "John…" he mutters, actually trying to get John's attention. When he doesn't get John's attention, he clears his throat and pulls John's hair. "John, something's burning."

Bacon long forgotten, the pan now puffs black smoke at them. John glances at it and pulls of Sherlock with a loud pop. "Shit!" he mutters as he quickly turns the stove off and grabs the cup of water that's on the other side of the stove. He throws the water on the smoldering pan and hears it sizzle.

"Close one," John says, looking back at Sherlock.

Sherlock smiles. "Would it be too pushy to grab your head and push you back onto my cock?"

"Not at all," John says, grinning.

Sherlock grabs the back on John's head and pulls him down once again. John swallows Sherlock's cock, equally stroking the shaft, and within the minute Sherlock is coming down John's throat.

"Should I be flattered?" John asks, pulling off Sherlock.

"Yes. Be very flattered. You are very good at that," Sherlock says, placing a hand on his chest to feel his heart racing.

"Good," John says, falling back onto a chair behind them.

Sherlock hops off the counter top and pulls his pants up once again. "You were making breakfast," he states.

John waves a hand at the stove. "Not now."

"Let's go out, then."

"For breakfast?"

"Why not? We just need to pop in downstairs."

John nods. "I need a shower first."

Sherlock takes John's hand and pulls him to the shower.

Twenty minutes later, both equally shagged due to a hand job in the shower, the two men go down to Speedy's for breakfast. They sit and order, but right before their food comes, Lestrade calls.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock answers. "Yes. – Of course. – Text me the address," he says, hanging up.

"I'm not going to get breakfast, am I?" John asks.

"You can stay here if you'd like," Sherlock says, standing.

"Fat chance," John replies, leaving the table as well. "Should we get a cab?"

In the cab, John has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. First, his fingertips butterfly touch Sherlock's thigh, then he leans over and kisses Sherlock's neck, then he scoots into the middle seat and sucks on Sherlock's neck while rubbing his inner thigh.

"Please, John—" Sherlock gives half hearted protests. "You're going to leave another mark…"

John shifts to another part of Sherlock's neck. "I'll stop if you tell me to," he breathes against Sherlock's slick skin.

"I just don't want to have an erection at the crime scene," Sherlock replies, his voice so low the cabbie can't hear him.

"Then let me get rid of it," John says, grinning against Sherlock's neck.

"No, then I'll be distracted. Just…" Sherlock trails off as he finds John's lips and kisses him, equally pushing John away at the same time. When he breaks away, Sherlock whispers in John's ear, "Leave it alone and it'll give me motivation to work quicker."

John grins again and kisses Sherlock once more. Finally he pulls away and sits against his door, every few minutes glancing at Sherlock with a knowing smile.

When the cabbie stops, Sherlock hops out and lets John stay back to pay. John hands the cabbie the fair and then an extra tip. "Sorry about…that," John explains.

"Newlyweds?" the cab driver asks, accepting the money.

John smiles, glancing at Sherlock. "It's a long story," he says, leaving the cab and catching up with Sherlock.

The case isn't that difficult, just a few dead bodies laying in an alleyway. Sherlock darts around making deductions, of course, and John stands back with Lestrade.

It's not warm out, Sherlock's wearing his coat and scarf, but he makes himself hot by constantly moving around. After a while, he tugs on his scarf to loosen it's hold and it accidentally slips from around his neck.

He doesn't think to cover his neck quickly, with there being three hickeys now just above his shirt collar, so Lestrade and Anderson catch site of the marks on his pale flesh. John's cheeks redden and he rubs his eyes.

"Jesus, Sherlock, renting yourself out lately?" Lestrade jokes.

"Oh, shut up. You all act like you've never seen anything like this before."

"We have. We just never expected _you _to even know what those marks are."

Sherlock glares. "Of course I know what they are and I'm very capable of giving and receiving them," Sherlock glances at John. "Right John?"

John grows even more red and he fully covers his face, hoping to make himself invisible. He can feel Lestrade and Anderson's eyes on him.

"Did you two finally shag?" Lestrade casually asks.

"Not that it's any of your business-" Sherlock starts.

"It's really not anyone's business," John pleads.

"Ew," Anderson mutters before leaving to follow up with Donovan.

Lestrade steps over to John while Sherlock redirects his attention to the bodies.

"I suppose congratulations are in order?" Lestrade says.

John half smiles. "Thanks," he says. "Just a bit embarrassing."

Lestrade pats his arm. "Someone's got to have him," he jokes.

John laughs. "Not that I'm with him, just that everyone knows what we've been up to."

Lestrade nods. "How long has this been going on?"

"A while, actually. We took a break for a while, but now we're together and I couldn't be happier."

Lestrade smiles. "How sweet," he says.

John nods. "Yeah, it's going well."

Lestrade nods and continues to smile. He then stands right in front of John and takes hold of John's shoulder. "I know Mycroft would never give you this talk, John, but if you hurt him, I know that man will kill you."

John's eyes grow wide. He momentarily wonders how Lestrade can say something so menacing but smile through it. "I understand," he says.

"Good," Lestrade says, letting John go. "I'm glad you two are happy."

John nods, straightening his jacket. "Thanks, mate."

Sherlock approaches them a while later and gives Lestrade all the information he's gathered, all the while glancing at John and grinning as he does so.

"Look," Lestrade stops him, "I know you two are happy lovey-dovey, but could we keep the glances and grins off the scene, please?"

Sherlock snorts. "You obviously don't pay enough attention to Donovan and Anderson."

Lestrade shakes his head and waves a hand. "I'm ignoring that. Just…please keep this all professional."

Sherlock, now just trying to torment Lestrade, touches John's shoulder. "But I love him," Sherlock pleads.

John laughs and takes Sherlock's hand and places it back at his side. "I understand, Greg," he says, then looks at Sherlock. "Go on, sexy."

Lestrade sighs and rolls his eyes. "Gentlemen!" he snaps. "Please, Sherlock, go on."

Sherlock chuckles and continues with his information, this time completely professional. When he's finished, he takes John's hand and pulls him towards the road. "Come along, love," Sherlock says just in Lestrade's ear shot.

"You're still on the scene!" Lestrade shouts after them.

Sherlock and John decide to walk part of the way home. As they go, John links their hands and they contently walk down the street.

"Why do you feel the need to pester Greg?" John questions.

"Because it's easy to make him uncomfortable."

"What is he uncomfortable by?" John asks.

"People acting like that at a place of work. You should have seen him and Mycroft at a scene a few months ago."

John stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. "What?" he questions.

"I said you should have seen him and Greg at a scene—"

"Why did you say that?"

Sherlock gives him a confused look. "Because they're shagging."

John looks even more confused than Sherlock. "Since when?"

"About a year and a half ago," Sherlock explains. "I figured it out, of course, and they made me promise not to tell you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I promised I wouldn't."

"You, the man who doesn't wear clothes to Buckingham Palace, made a promise to your brother not to tell him that he's sleeping with my friend."

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and continues walking down the street. "I was threatened."

"Threatened?" John asks, intrigued. "With what?"

"My inheritance."

John nods in understanding. "So they've been together a year and a half?"

"More or less," Sherlock replies. "It could have been longer. I hadn't seen either of them a while, Lestrade was on vacation for a long time."

John nods again. "Now we know why."

Sherlock looks at him. "I don't understand."

John shakes his head. "Never mind. Come on," he takes Sherlock's hand and pulls him into a restaurant. "I'm starving!"

When they get home they decide to have a nap. Well, John decides to pull Sherlock to bed, then decides to fall asleep. Sherlock is not happy, but he lightly dozes against John.

John wakes first, and watches Sherlock sleep. They're laying face to face on a single pillow and mashed as close together as they can be without being on top of one another.

John takes in Sherlock's sleeping form: eyes lightly closed, mouth slightly open, features uncommonly restful. John smiles at Sherlock. "I love you," he whispers, pressing a light kiss to Sherlock's parted lips, then falling back to sleep with his nose touching Sherlock's.

_***Usually I don't have Lestrade/Mycroft together, because I have a whole different story thread for that, but in this case I decided, why not? **_


	15. Chapter 15

**Optimism **

A month goes by and they have never been happier. They kiss often, they tell each other they love each other many times a day, they smile a whole lot, and all in all they're just so much happier.

One evening, after a day full of solving cold cases, John takes Sherlock to dinner to celebrate. He orders them a bottle of wine, even though Sherlock protests.

"I thought I was supposed to worry about money," John says, pouring Sherlock a glass.

"I can worry, too."

"Well," John says, pouring his own glass, "This will come out of my share, ok?"

Sherlock glares at John. "There's no need for that, I can assure you."

"No, I insist. This is to celebrate your brilliance anyway."

Sherlock sips his wine. "Why do we have to have shares of the money anyway?"

"Why not?"

Sherlock shrugs and looks around the restaurant trying to distract himself. When he finds nothing and he sees John staring at him for an answer, Sherlock says, "We are in a relationship. I'm confident it won't end badly this time. Why don't we just…join everything?"

John stares at Sherlock, waiting for the punch line. "Are you serious?" he asks when there isn't one.

Sherlock shrugs once again. "I don't see why not."

John grins. "A bit quick, don't you think?"

Sherlock nods. "You're right. Let's drop it."

John eyes him but continues grinning. "Whatever you say, love."

They do drop the subject, but the thought stays with Sherlock. _Why _not _merge all of our belongings? _Sherlock wonders. _It's not like we really have separate possessions anyway, save undergarments and other clothes, most of the time. _He grins as he realizes he's wearing one of John's t-shirts because his shirts are dirty. He grins again when he remembers John's face when he pulled the non-dressy black jacket on over said t-shirt. John's jaw literally dropped.

They go straight home after dinner, the day full of cases leaving John exhausted. They decide to walk because the sky is clear. As they're stopped at a cross walk, Sherlock stares up at the sky thinking. His thoughts are suddenly paused because he feels John press a kiss to the side of his neck.

"What was that for?" Sherlock asks.

John smiles. "Can't I just kiss you?"

Sherlock smiles back. "Go ahead."

John glances around to check for nosy pedestrians. Then he redirects his attention to Sherlock's neck, once again stretched because the owner is staring at the sky. "I love seeing all of your neck," John says, pressing another kiss to the pale flesh.

Sherlock smiles. "Tickles a bit," he says.

John steps in front of him and kisses his Adam's Apple.

"Mmmm," Sherlock hums.

They hear the ding of the lights indicating light change, so Sherlock pushes John a bit until John begins to walk forward.

When they get home, John goes straight to bed and falls asleep instantly. Sherlock takes his time getting ready for bed, desperately needing a shower rather than sleep.

In his shower he thinks. _John and I could just become one, _he thinks. _This time nothing bad will happen. I am confident we will be together for a very long time. Why not just…get married? _

Sherlock's shocked by his own thought. _Do I really want to marry John? _he asks himself. He smiles at the thought of him and John signing a marriage license and exchanging rings. "I think I'd like that," he says out loud, getting out of the shower.

He dries himself and goes to bed. John is curled up on his side of the bed and his hand is resting on Sherlock's pillow. Sherlock smiles at John's sleeping form and lies next to him, moving John's hand to rest on Sherlock's chest.

"Mmmm," John sighs. He cuddles closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock pets John's head. "Stay asleep," he whispers.

John's nose rubs Sherlock's shoulder. "Smells nice," he mutters.

Sherlock smiles. He lifts John's hand and kisses his palm. "I love you," he whispers.

"Love you," John replies, falling back to sleep with a deep sigh.

_I could do this for the rest of my life, _Sherlock thinks as he falls asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**_(A/N: Please note that this chapter was uploaded the same day as Optimism. Please read that chapter, too!)_  
**

**Aggressiveness**

A week passes and Sherlock continuously thinks about marrying John. He does all he can to not propose to John every five minutes. Finally he gets a case and it distracts him enough to not think about it, but the case only lasts a few days.

On the last day, John goes to home to get ready for work while Sherlock stays with Lestrade to finish up the case. When they're finished, Sherlock's brain automatically jumps back to the thought of John and the thought of marrying John, and Lestrade sees the shift in Sherlock's thoughts.

"What're you thinking about?" Lestrade asks.

"Mmmm?" Sherlock shakes his head to clear his mind. "Nothing."

Lestrade eyes him. "You're thinking. What is it? Problems with John?"

"No!" Sherlock snaps. "The exact opposite, actually."

Lestrade continues to eye him. "Spill it."

Sherlock sighs. "I'm thinking about proposing to John."

Lestrade finds the wrong moment to sip his coffee, for seconds later it's all down the front of his shirt. "Jesus, Sherlock," he mutters, dabbing his stained shirt with his handkerchief. "You serious?"

"Very serious. I've given this a lot of thought."

"Have you? What does John think about it?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I can't talk to John about this. I'll scare him away."

"Well if you think you'd scare him away, why do you think asking him to marry you would be a good idea?"

"Because I love him," Sherlock explains. "And I think we'll work for the better this time."

Lestrade rubs his eyes and sits in his chair. "How positive are you about this, Sherlock?"

"Very positive. I want to marry John."

Lestrade sighs. "I can't stop you, Sherlock, but—"

"But?" Sherlock demands.

"But I'm not sure it's a good idea quite yet. Isn't it a bit soon?"

"John and I have been dancing around being together for a long time. Finally, we are, we're very happy, and I want to make it…" Sherlock shyly smiles, "I want to make it forever."

Lestrade looks soft and almost sorrowful. "Are you sure about this, Sherlock?"

"Of course. And you've been with my brother longer than I've been with John. Don't you think about these things?"

Lestrade's cheeks redden. "I told you not to talk about that—"

"Please, Lestrade. You and I are the only two here. Don't you feel the same about my brother?"

Lestrade takes a deep breath. "Look, even if I did, your brother and I are two different people than you and John. He'd never want to—"

Sherlock suddenly realizes that all he needs to do to know if John wants to marry him is to ask. "You never know unless you try," he says, leaving Lestrade's office.

Sherlock goes home and plans a beautiful dinner for John. He makes spaghetti, simply because it's easy and he actually knows how to, he buys expensive wine, and he plans a speech. He didn't buy a ring, simply because he forgot, and by the time John gets home, everything is in place.

"Sherlock?" John calls through the flat as he enters the front door to the sitting room.

"In here!" Sherlock calls from the kitchen.

John goes into the kitchen to see what Sherlock's doing, and he sees the lights dimmed and replaced with three candles on the table, along with two perfect plates of spaghetti and two glasses of wine.

"Candles…" John mutters.

"More romantic this way," Sherlock replies, grinning.

John smiles at him and takes Sherlock in his arms. "Did you do this for me?"

Sherlock wraps his arms around John. "Of course."

John hugs Sherlock tight and kisses Sherlock's lips. "What for?"

"Can't I just do something nice for you because I want to?" Sherlock asks.

John smiles into another kiss. "Fine," he says, pulling away from Sherlock. "Let's eat, I'm starving."

They sit to eat and make conversation while they eat. John talks about his day at the clinic and Sherlock talks about his day with the case and Lestrade.

When they finish their meal, Sherlock clears his throat and begins the speech he prepared.

"Listen, John," Sherlock says. He looks into John's face and tries to make the best eye contact he can. "I've been thinking. I love you very much, John. And I know you love me. And I'm confident we are…we're going to work this time, John. I know we are." Sherlock shifts and takes John's hand. "Will you marry me?"

John just stares at Sherlock the whole time he talks. John's sure he knows what's going on, but as soon as Sherlock asks, he gasps and sits back in his chair.

"Oh god," Sherlock mutters, reading John's actions. "I shouldn't have…" he stands from his chair. "I didn't mean to…" he paces the kitchen and runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck…"

John quickly stands and grabs hold of Sherlock. "Sherlock, Sherlock!" he pulls Sherlock so Sherlock stops pacing.

"I didn't mean to fuck things up, John," Sherlock says. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"You didn't fuck anything up, love," Sherlock says. "I just…"

"Please don't say no, John," Sherlock closes his eyes. "I know you're going to say no, but don't _say _it."

John sighs. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I love you so much, but it's just too soon. I'm not ready, and I don't think you are either."

Sherlock opens his eyes and stares at John. "I am ready, John. I've never been more prepares for anything," he says, stepping backwards towards the door.

"Don't go…" John pleads as Sherlock grabs his coat.

"I'll be back," Sherlock assures him.

Sherlock wanders for a while, then decides to pay his brother a visit. While walking, he grows angry with _Mycroft _because it's his fault he told Greg that he'd never know if he didn't try, fully convincing himself to ask John. All in all, Sherlock feels humiliated, and he doesn't want to take it out of John.

He bangs on the door to Mycroft's flat and after seconds Mycroft answers.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft starts, but Sherlock pushes past him into the room.

Lestrade stands from his seat on the sofa as Sherlock storms into the room.

"Oh, great!" Sherlock shouts. "You're here, too! Well, I'll just have you know that I asked John to marry me!"

Lestrade and Mycroft stare at Sherlock with wide eyes. "You did what?" Mycroft wants to know.

"I decided I want to marry John, which was obviously a huge mistake judging by his reaction," Sherlock resumes pacing, this time in Mycroft's living room. "I shouldn't have…" he looks at Lestrade. "Why did you let me?!"

Mycroft looks at Lestrade. "You did, what?"

"I didn't tell him to!"

"You didn't tell me not to!"

"I told you it wouldn't be a good idea!" Lestrade defends.

"Sherlock," Mycroft tries to console him. "You _know _that wasn't a good idea."

"I do not know that! Well, I didn't know that! Now I know it was!"

Both men stare at Sherlock as he paces. Sherlock runs his hands through his hair and breathes deep, feeling a panic attack coming.

"John's going to leave," he mutters. "When I get home, he'll be gone."

"That's not true, Sherlock," Mycroft says. "Doctor Watson loves you, and—"

"Then why doesn't he want to marry me?"

"I don't know, Sherlock," Mycroft says.

Sherlock stares back at both of them. "Why am I asking you two? You two are far more lost than John and I. Who are you two to give me advice?"

Lestrade and Mycroft exchange glances, fully knowing that Sherlock is right.

"I've got to go," Sherlock suddenly says. "I've got to stop John from leaving," he mutters as he exits Mycroft's flat.

Sherlock races home in hopes to stop John from leaving. However, when he arrives home he sees that he didn't need to rush, that John is sitting in his same spot at the kitchen table.

"John?"

John lifts his head and looks up at Sherlock. "Where'd you go?"

"To my brother's," Sherlock answers.

John stands and goes to Sherlock. He hugs Sherlock tight. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock wraps his arms around John. "Don't leave, ok?"

John looks at him. "I never will. But I can't get married right now. I'm not ready. Ok?"

Sherlock nods.

"I love you," John says.

"I love you, too."

"In time, ok?"

Sherlock nods, leaning down to kiss John.

Sherlock takes 'in time' to mean the very next morning. He woke John twenty minutes ago by kissing down his chest and stomach. By the time they finished their morning love making, John slumped lazily onto the bed and closed his eyes again. Now, Sherlock is laying on his chest and John is rubbing his head as a sign of content.

"So," Sherlock begins, "Do you think we could get married now?"

John snorts. "Now as in _now, _or now as in, you're asking again?"

Sherlock lifts his head. "I'm asking again."

John smiles. "You're not going to stop trying, are you?"

Sherlock kisses his chest. "I will if you leave me."

"I don't plan on leaving."

"Then it looks like I won't stop trying."

John continues smiling. "Why do you want to so badly?"

Sherlock shifts so he's nose to nose with John. He breathes against John's mouth, "Because I love you." He bends to kiss John.

"I love you too," John says when Sherlock pulls away. "But I'll just keep saying no."

"Well," Sherlock says, leaving the bed. "I'll be around when you change your mind."

John opens his eyes and watches Sherlock leave the room. "Oi! Where are you going?"

"I've got to shower!" Sherlock calls back to John.

A week later, Sherlock asks again. John chuckles and says no.

A week after that, Sherlock tries once more. John smiles and politely declines.

This goes on for weeks and each time, John says no.


	17. Chapter 17

_**(A/N: Please note that this chapter was uploaded the same day at Optimism and Aggressiveness. Don't forget to read those, too!)**_

**End**

Many weeks later, Sherlock wakes to his phone ringing. He answers, and on the other side of the line, it's Lestrade. Lestrade informs them that there's been a kidnapping, so Sherlock hops out of bed and gets dressed. John follows soon after, only because Sherlock tripped over his trouser legs and fell to the ground with a loud crash.

They get to the scene and join Lestrade at his car.

"Why am I here?" Sherlock demands.

"You _are _my sniffer dog," Lestrade answers.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Fill me in," he demands, taking a gun someone offers him and tucking it into his jeans.

Half an hour later, they're walking through an abandoned hospital trying to find the kidnapper and his hostages. Sherlock directs them through the maze of rooms, him being the only one who can see what nobody else does, of course. Blood here, prints there, Sherlock easily moves through the building with many people following him.

They come to a confusing spot and Sherlock instructs half the people to go one way and half to go the other. After the last time he separated from John in a case, Sherlock pulls John with him and they continue through the building.

They wander for a while, and finally they arrive in a room full of hostages. A woman in the corner screams and Sherlock instructs them all to make no noise.

It doesn't work, however, because moments later, Sherlock is on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

"Sherlock!" John shouts, falling to his knees next to him. He takes hold of where Sherlock is bleeding, his arm, and tries his best to stop the bleeding. Around them, fighting breaks loose and shots are fired, but they don't notice. All John is concerned with is Sherlock.

"It's ok, love," John reassures Sherlock.

"I'm ok, John," Sherlock reassures John.

"We got him!" they hear, then they're picked up and pushed out of the room.

John doesn't even feel his own feet carry him until he's being pulled the opposite direction of Sherlock. "Sherlock!" he pleads, but Sherlock is being pushed into an ambulance. "Let me go with him!" he begs.

Lestrade grabs John around the waist and pushes him into a car. Lestrade hops into the driver's seat and follows the ambulance, meanwhile dialing his phone.

"Who are you calling?" John demands, trying not to cry. His head is cloudy and he might be crying already, but he doesn't care.

"Mycroft," Lestrade answers. "Mycroft," he says into his phone. "Sherlock's been shot."

John feels tears fall from his eyes and his stomach clenches.

They get to the hospital and try to find Sherlock's room, but the nurse won't let them back. "He's in surgery," he says, "Are you two relatives?"

"I'm his boyfriend," John absentmindedly says. He knows only family can see patients, he kicks himself for not saying Sherlock is his husband or brother.

"Sorry," the nurse says, "Family only. I'll let you know when he's out, though."

Lestrade grabs John's arm and pulls him to a waiting room. "Come on, John, sit down."

John doesn't sit, though, instead he paces the room waiting for the nurse. Mycroft arrives and joins Lestrade on the room's sofa, and they both watch John pace.

"What's taking them so long?" John wonders out loud.

"They're in surgery, John, it's not like they're—"

"I know what surgery is like!" John snaps.

Finally the nurse arrives and informs them that he's fine. "We removed the bullet, and there is damage, but with physical therapy, he'll be alright."

John sighs in relief. "Can I see him?"

The nurse shakes his head. "Family only."

Mycroft stands from the sofa. "I'm his brother."

The nurse nods and waves an arm for Mycroft to follow him.

Mycroft stops in front of John and grasps John's shoulder. "What would you like me to tell him?"

"Tell him I'm here and I love him."

Mycroft nods and follows the nurse.

In the room, Sherlock is laying on the hospital bed with a bandage all around his arm. Mycroft arrives and Sherlock looks up, hopeful, but when he sees it's not John he falls back against the bed.

"How do you feel?" Mycroft asks.

"Fine. Where is John?"

"John is in the waiting room with Greg."

"Why isn't he in here?"

"He can't come in," Mycroft answers. "Family visitors only."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "He should have married me months ago."

Mycroft chuckles. "He did tell me to tell you that he loves you."

Sherlock smiles. "Good. They told me I need to rest, so if you don't mind…"

"Of course," Mycroft says, leaving the room.

Mycroft returns to the waiting room. John stands and meets him at the door.

"How is he?" John demands.

"He is fine. He says he loves you, as well."

John nods. "Thanks, Mycroft."

Mycroft nods.

Later that evening, Mycroft calls John. "John, I'm calling to inform you that I've changed your marital status with my brother. You can visit him in the hospital now."

John is shocked. "What do you mean?"

"I changed your marital status with my brother—"

"How?" John demands.

John can practically hear Mycroft smirk. "You're welcome," is all he says before hanging up.

John visits Sherlock the next morning.

"My brother told me what he did for us," Sherlock says. "Nice of him."

"Yes," John agrees, "Though I am very confused. So…we're married now?"

"Well, legally, I suppose," Sherlock answers. "But not…really," he looks up at John with sad eyes.

John kisses Sherlock's forehead, taking hold of Sherlock's face with one hand. "I love you so much," John says. "I was so scared yesterday."

"I know. But I'm fine, see?"

John nods, pressing his forehead against Sherlock's.

Sherlock closes his eyes. "John," he starts.

John vigorously nods, not needing Sherlock to finish his question. "Yes, I'll marry you, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiles. "Really?"

John nods again. "Of course. I need to. I need you."

Sherlock places his good hand on the back of John's head. "I need you, as well, John."

John kisses Sherlock. "I love you so much," he mutters between small kisses.

"Now you two," John hears a voice say behind them. "We have rules about sex with patients."

John turns around to see Sherlock's nurse entering the room. A different nurse from yesterday, this one is a young woman who smiles at both of them.

"Ahh, John this is my nurse, Gladys," Sherlock says as he beams at her. He looks back at John and whispers. "She hates me!"

"I do not!" Gladys playfully replies. "You're being a delight."

John smiles at Sherlock. "Is he now?"

"I'm hoping to be rewarded for good behavior," Sherlock says, leaning up to kiss John.

John kisses him once then redirects his attention to Gladys. "Hi, I'm John, his—"

Sherlock cuts him off and quickly says, "Husband."

John smiles wide at this. "Yes, I'm his husband."

Sherlock smiles up at him and John smiles down at Sherlock.

"Newlyweds?" Gladys asks.

John smiles. "Yes. Very new."

Gladys beams at them and leaves the room.

"When should we get married then?" Sherlock asks.

"When you get out of here."

Sherlock smiles. "Do you promise?"

John kisses him deep. "I promise."

Sherlock smiles and kisses John back. When they part, Sherlock mutters, "It's about damn time."

John smiles. "Oh, shut up. I love you."

"I love you, too, John."

_***So this is the final chapter for this story. Thank you for reading! Please review. And if you'd like to, check out my other stories. Thanks! **_


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